


Something Wicked (This Way Comes)

by CelticAurora



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fae & Fairies, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Foster Siblings, Friends to Lovers, High Witch Allura, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kitsune Shiro, M/M, Native American Keith, Past Child Abuse, Rating May Change, Seelie Court, Slow Burn, Unseelie Court, Werewolf Hunk, Witch Pidge, also be prepared for memelord Pidge, fae Keith, goth keith, house-sharing, or at least part-Native American, selkie lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 86,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticAurora/pseuds/CelticAurora
Summary: Another move, another new home, another new high school. For half-fae Keith, life is about living on the run, constantly looking over his shoulder as his guardian, Allura, shuffles him and his foster sister Pidge from place to place, attempting to keep one step ahead of the creatures that have been chasing them all his life.But when Allura’s coven cuts her off, they’re forced to take in boarders in their new home in order to keep above water financially. And in drifts a displaced selkie, a pacifist werewolf, and the hottest kitsune Keith has ever laid eyes on.Senior year just got a lot more interesting.





	1. Homeward Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Because I need more fanfiction to write.
> 
> I can't help it. I get stressed, I write.
> 
> Special thanks to [Chibifoxai](http://chibifoxai.tumblr.com) for playing the role of cheerleader, researcher, beta reader, and general bad influence.
> 
> [Also, before we begin - I know there have been problems with certain people in the Voltron fandom when it comes to age differences and the Voltron characters, with some people going so far as to accuse people involved with the show of promoting pedophilia. This will come up in the fic, but so all are aware: Yes, Keith is younger than Shiro. Yes, he's stated as still being in high school. However, Keith is, at the start of this story, 18 years old, almost 19. The reason why he's almost 19 and in high school will be addressed in the story. But now you know. Ta-freaking-dah.]

“By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes.”

 

- _Macbeth_ , Act IV, scene 1

* * *

“Are we there yet?”

Keith closed his eyes, resisting the urge to bang his head against the side window of the van. Everything else about this move, he’d handled with what he considered to be an astonishing amount of grace. Everything from continuously stubbing his toes on the stacks of moving boxes that had crowded their shoebox-sized apartment in Tucson, to wrestling nine pissed-off cats of above-average intelligence into cat carriers, to spending two days packed into a crammed-tight minivan with nine cats, four mice, a screeching pygmy owl, and Allura’s jangly Renaissance rock – who the fuck even thought of Renaissance rock? – Keith had handled with only a scowl and maybe a few muttered expletives when he thought Allura wouldn’t hear him.

But if Pidge asked are we there yet one more time, he was going to toss her out of the van.

“We’re close,” Allura promised from the front. They had come to a halt, and from his position sitting shotgun – which had been another point of contention between him and Pidge when they’d left California that morning – he could see that they had joined a line of cars that also were sitting and waiting. The line led down towards a body of water, which sparkled in the afternoon sun, the glare nearly blinding Keith.

Pidge leaned forward, straining her seatbelt. “Where are we?”

“At the Port Defiance ferry,” Allura said. “Once we cross the Sound, it’s only about twenty minutes to our new house.”

“Wait, a _house_ ?” Pidge leaned forward even more, eyes wide, an effect that was magnified by her giant glasses. “Like, a _real house_?”

Allura’s smile was indulgent. “A real house, yes.”

“Dude!” Pidge turned her attention to Keith, looking like she might actually pop from excitement. Keith couldn’t really blame her – they hadn’t lived in a real house since North Carolina, and the apartments they’d lived in since had been getting progressively smaller. The Tucson one had only had two bedrooms, leaving him and Pidge to actually share the room. That’d gone over about as well as putting gasoline on a grease fire.

As for the one bathroom they’d all been forced to share…he didn’t want to think about that at all.

He wished he could be as excited as Pidge, but…he just couldn’t be. So he just stared blankly at Pidge, blinking a few times, watching with a squirming twist of guilt in his gut as her face fell. He could feel Allura’s gaze, too, watching him with her too-blue eyes as the line moved forward.

“I know this isn’t easy,” she said, her voice soft. “This process never is. But this move will be good for us.”

“You said that about the last six moves.”

The words were out of Keith’s mouth before he could stop them – and once they were out, the van went dead silent. Even Rover the owl, who had been screeching since some run-down gas station in central Oregon, was quiet.

That was how Keith knew he’d _really_ fucked up.

Allura looked away, staring determinedly ahead. He could see, though, that her eyes were shiny with tears. The guilt that had been churning in his gut twisted itself into a very tight knot.

“Wow,” Pidge said, loudly after a long moment of silence, “you are _such a dick_!”

“Pidge!” Allura admonished.

“Oh, come on, what he said was uncalled for, and you know it!” Pidge argued, throwing her arms up.

Keith ducked his head slightly. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

Keith ignored Pidge’s question, focusing on Allura instead. “Look, Allura, I’m sorry, I really am, but…why did we have to leave Tucson? We were just getting comfortable there. We’d finally gotten the apartment to have the perfect chi or whatever.” He paused, then continued, the next words harder to force out than the others. “I had friends there…”

That had been the worst part about having to move yet again. Everywhere else they’d lived in the past two years, Keith had been a loner. And he was okay with that. The one, maybe two friends he’d made in all the other places didn’t even remember him anymore, at least not outside of terms of “that weird goth kid who dressed kind of like a girl.” Allura had had to alter the memories of the friends both he and Pidge had made in the various towns they’d lived in – to protect everyone, she said, not just the three of them.

But Tucson…he’d made an actual group of friends, kids who didn’t give him sideways looks for the black-on-black-on-black outfits, the scowl that said “talk to me and I will cut you,” or even for the strangely pointed ears, or the fact that when his hair grew out, the new roots were white as snow. Allura had had to “fix” their memories, too, leaving Keith with a phone full of pictures of people who wouldn’t remember his face, and numbers he couldn’t call or text anymore.

“I had friends, too,” Pidge remarked, “and I had to leave them behind after they got their brains scrambled, but you don’t see me being a dick to Allura about it.”

“Pidge, stop using that kind of language!”

“But - !”

The van was now parked, and Allura whipped around when Pidge started to argue, fixing her with the mom glare of the century.

“Enough… _Katie_.”

At the sound of her real name, Pidge ducked her head, staring down at her shoes with a scowl of her own. Allura turned her attention back to Keith, and her face softened.

“Keith, I know you had friends back in Arizona. I’m sorry I had to take you away from them. And…and I’m sorry I couldn’t even leave the memories. But…you know why we had to leave.”

Keith nodded, a vein of self-disgust twisting into his gut along with the guilt. “Yeah. I know why.”

Allura nodded solemnly. “According to Kolivan, this is deep Seelie territory, so hopefully, we won’t be tracked here.”

Keith nodded again, but he wasn’t terribly convinced. After all, they’d been tracked six times before. Who was to say they wouldn’t be found again?

“Just…try to think of the positives,” Allura suggested. “We’re in a house this time, and it is much, much bigger than the apartment. You and Pidge will get your own rooms this time. We’re on the water, with access to a little private beach. And besides…it is very pretty up here.”

Keith glanced out the van window. The ferry had started to move, gliding across the waters of the Puget Sound. Instead of the scrubby desert brush of Tucson, the foliage here was made of dense trees and green grass. He sighed, trying to resist the urge to roll down the window, throw himself into the water, and start walking back to Arizona.

“Well, at least I don’t have to share a room with the gremlin anymore.”

Pidge’s neck snapped up, and once she saw that Allura had turned back around in her seat, she gave Keith the finger.

“I saw that,” Allura said.

* * *

Allura hadn’t been kidding when she said the house was bigger than the apartment. In fact, as Allura pulled the minivan into the driveway of a waterfront mansion, Keith realized that they probably could have fit their Tucson apartment into the house three times over.

And, Keith noticed as Allura put the minivan in park, they were not alone. A station wagon that had probably been old back in the 90s took up the entire other half of the driveway; as they emerged from the van, stretching and groaning, the driver’s door of the station wagon swung open. A man with brilliant orange hair and an impressive mustache to match bounded around the front of the station wagon to come greet them. Keith had to resist the urge to put on sunglasses; the man was wearing a really ugly, sky blue Hawaiian shirt decorated with vivid orange flowers, and between that and his hair, he was just hard to look at without feeling like his eyeballs were about to shrivel up.

“Ah, hello hello!” he greeted, and God, his voice was as loud as his hair and his outfit. He approached Allura with a large, blinding grin, grabbed her hand in both of his own, and pumped it up and down vigorously. “You must be my new tenant!”

“Yes,” Allura said with a nod and her famous diplomatic smile. “Allura Lyon. We spoke on the phone.” She looked up at the house. “This is a beautiful house!”

“Well, thank you! She’s my pride and joy when it comes to my properties.” His eyes fell on Keith and Pidge, and Keith had the overwhelming urge to climb back into the van. “Ah, and who are these two?”

“Oh, yes,” Allura placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, and one on Pidge’s. They both exchanged looks; there was no getting out of this. “This is Keith, and this is Pidge. They’re my – ”

“Ah, they’re your children!” the man gushed, grabbing them both and pulling them into a tight hug. “The resemblance is striking!”

Keith and Pidge exchanged looks again. Not only did Allura look barely any older than the two of them, but neither of them looked a damn thing like Allura. She was gorgeous, tall and brown-skinned, eye-catching with her long white hair and her crystal-blue eyes. Keith and Pidge, on the other hand, were both pale, scrawny-looking kids with dark hair. But even with those similarities, they barely looked anything like each other. Pidge was tiny for her age, and the warmer of the two of them, with brown hair and bright hazel eyes, a sharp contrast to Keith’s dyed-black hair and dark eyes.

There was also the fact that, unlike him, Pidge was completely, utterly, unchangeably human.

“Right,” Allura said with a smile that looked a little forced.

“I can tell you three are going to be my favorite tenants yet!” the man said, finally letting go of Pidge and Keith and producing a business card from the pocket of his shirt. “Coran Smythe, but please, call me Coran, Mr. Smythe was my father!”

Allura intercepted, taking the business card and tucking it away in her purse. “Thank you, Coran. We already love the house.” She turned to Keith and Pidge. “Now, we need to get the van unloaded…the cats are probably getting a little anxious.”

“Ah, yes, I should let you get settled.” Coran beamed at them. “If you ever need me, you have my card. There’s a farmer’s market downtown every Saturday, and you can usually find me there, as well.”

Keith perked up slightly. Back in Arizona, he used to sell soaps and lotions – made fresh from his plants – to earn spending money. Not only was a farmer’s market up here a good money-making opportunity, but he was also less likely to burn to death in Washington than he was under Tucson’s merciless sun.

“Sounds wonderful!” Allura chirped, back to her usual sunshine self. “Thank you so much, Coran!”

“Hope to see you around!” Coran said. “Enjoy the house!”

He climbed into the station wagon, and the car started with a belch of smoke from the tailpipe. He backed it down the driveway and chugged down the street, his car putting off enough black smoke that Keith was pretty sure it could wreck the ozone layer over Washington state all on its own. Allura turned to the two of them with a tired smile.

“Pidge, can you start taking the cats into the house?” she asked. “I want to show Keith something.”

“How come I have to do the hard work?” Pidge complained.

Allura, however, was already in the side yard, heading around towards the back. Nonplussed, Keith jogged after her to catch up, the sounds of Pidge’s griping getting fainter as he did. The backyard was huge – it reminded him of the park that had been down the street from their apartment in Colorado, a few moves back. Unlike the park, however, all of what he was seeing belonged to them, which left him gaping.

“We own the land, all the way to the water,” Allura remarked with a broad, sweeping gesture. “There’s a set of stairs that leads down to the beach. But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”

She guided him towards what appeared to be a very large shed, tucked near the back of the house. With an indulgent smile, she opened the door. A familiar, earthy smell hit Keith.

“Welcome home, Keith.”

He took a few tentative steps inside. The space was set up as a greenhouse, hot and humid and smelling like freshly-turned soil. Keith’s plants, which had crowded the den, the kitchen, and his and Pidge’s tiny bedroom back in Tucson, stood waiting, having been magicked to the house by Allura. In the middle of them was a newly-sprouted aloe plant with a bow tied around its little plastic pot.

A warm hand fell on Keith’s shoulder – Allura. When she’d first taken him in, he’d refused to let her touch him; she was just another “well-meaning” foster mom who would let him stay for a few months, then get tired of his scowls and odd looks and even odder behavior and send him packing back to social services.

But that had been then. Allura had not returned him to the care of the state. Instead, she’d been infuriatingly patient with him, even on the days where he just wanted to be left the hell alone, working, little by little, to build his trust in her.

“I know it’s been hard,” she said softly, “the packing, the moving, the running. I’m sorry. I hate that I have to drag you and Pidge through this. But…” Her smile was a small, vulnerable one. “I have a good feeling about this place. I think it will be good for all of us. Just…can you try? Try to like it? Try to be happy?”

Keith pressed his lips together. He’d been happy in Tucson, with his friends that didn’t even remember his name anymore. He’d been happy in New Orleans, with their cozy apartment that had been decked out in a riot of colors. He’d been happy in Myrtle Beach, falling asleep every night to the sound of waves crashing outside of his bedroom window. He’d even been content with Aurora, Colorado, despite it being so damn cold. He was so tired of moving boxes, new schools, and living with the knowledge that any friends he or Pidge made would be forced to forget them.

But Allura looked so hopeful. The thought of shattering that hopeful look on her face made that awful guilt-worm squirm in his gut again; Allura didn’t like this any more than he did, but she was only doing it to keep him and Pidge safe. He sighed, and gave her a weak smile.

“I’ll give it a try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr!](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	2. No Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith still is unsure about the move. A visit from Allura's coven doesn't help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 3/26: Check out the amazing art of Keith in Council-meeting dress by Miyuu, and [give them some love!](http://nexvoct23.tumblr.com)
> 
> EDIT 6/16: Originally, Romelle, Allura's cousin, was introduced in this chapter; however, following the release of VLD season 6, her introduction will be moved to later on in this story.

“All right. All right, yes, I – sorry, keep the change – yes, I understand. No, it’s all right! Don’t worry about it – oh, yes, you have a good evening, too! Yes, I’ll be here. Do you have an estimate on the time..?”

Keith and Pidge were both sitting on the floor of the unfurnished living room - Keith dangling a piece of string for Red, one of Allura’s familiars, to play with, and Pidge trying desperately to revive a circa 1999 Gameboy Color - when Allura ventured in, holding her phone to her ear with one hand and precariously balancing two large boxes of pizza with the other.

“Okay. Yes. That will be fine. Thank you.” Allura ended the call with a sigh. “Bad news - the moving van blew a tire and is stuck in Oregon - ”

“Would this be a bad time for an Oregon Trail reference?” Pidge asked.

“Yes, it would be,” Allura said. “So, it looks like we won’t have any furniture until Saturday.”

“What are we supposed to sleep on?” Keith asked, though he had a sinking feeling as to what Allura was going to say.

Allura snapped her fingers. Two rolled sleeping bags - one red, one green - appeared at her feet, scaring the hell out of Red, who bolted behind Keith. He gave Allura a look.

“Really? Sleeping bags? What are we, ten?”

Allura raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer to sleep on the floor? I can arrange that, too.”

“Where’s your sleeping bag?” Pidge countered. “I know you’re not planning on sleeping on the floor, either...unless you were going to magic yourself a bed after we went to sleep. On the floor. In sleeping bags.”

Allura pressed her lips together, giving Pidge a narrow-eyed look, then snapping her fingers again. A third sleeping bag, pastel pink in color, dropped to the floor with the other two.

“Happy now?”

Pidge inspected the sleeping bags for a long moment, then beamed and nodded. “Yes.”

Keith made a noncommittal noise. Sure, the house was nice, and he really liked the greenhouse, but...he still wasn’t sold on the move. And now, they’d have to spend two nights sleeping on the floor. After two days of sleeping in motels and in the minivan, he just wanted to sleep in his own damn bed.

Allura sat down on the floor, kicking the sleeping bags aside and setting the pizza boxes in between the three of them. A stack of paper plates blinked themselves into existence, and Keith and Pidge tore the boxes open and dug into the pizza as if they hadn’t seen food in days. Even Allura, who normally would have balked at the thought of having to eat greasy take-out pizza, helped herself to two slices. For several minutes, there was nothing but the sound of chewing.

“So,” Allura began, finally breaking the silence, “let’s talk about school.”

Both Keith and Pidge groaned. That was always the worst talk that happened after moving.

“Oh, don’t start with all that!” Allura frowned at them. “You two should consider yourselves lucky. Back when I was your age - ”

“HA!” Pidge blurted out, nearly knocking her plate over as she shot a triumphant fist into the air. She then jabbed a finger into Keith’s face. “I called it! I finally called it! You owe me five bucks! In your face!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take my eye out in the process…” Keith grumbled, digging into his pockets and eventually producing a crumpled five-dollar bill, which Pidge snatched with glee.

“What on Earth was that about?” Allura asked, baffled.

“Uh…”

Keith and Pidge exchanged guilty looks. For the better part of two years - since the first move, in fact - they’d had an ongoing wager that, until now, they’d been a lot more surreptitious about. It had started with Keith, after their move from upstate New York to Myrtle Beach; he’d been a few days shy of his seventeenth birthday, and embarrassed as all hell that he was a seventeen-year-old who was still in his sophomore year of high school - and, worse yet, his new foster sister was thirteen and in the same grade as him, because she was a goddamn genius and none too humble about it. And so, the night before his seventeenth birthday, he’d made the mistake of asking Allura if, instead of being enrolled in the local high school, he could drop out, get his GED, and maybe start working instead.

That conversation...well, it had led Allura onto an impressively long lecture about the value of education, and how fortunate Keith and Pidge were to even have access to public education, because the public education system had only really been built up over the last century, and when Allura had been a teenager, there was no such thing as public school - and if you made it to your teenage years, boys would apprentice themselves or become soldiers, and girls like Allura, well, they would have been considered fortunate if they learned their letters, much less learned how to read.

The lecture hadn’t dissuaded Keith from asking about his schooling options every time they moved, but it did lead him and Pidge to establish a wager - if Keith asked her about dropping out of school, would she tell him no because education was important, or because she didn’t get a public-school education and they should be grateful for what they were getting?

So far, Keith had gotten about twenty-five bucks out of Pidge over the last several moves. This was the first time in the history of their bet that he’d lost.

Allura must have been able to read the guilty looks on their faces, because her eyes narrowed into slits. “You little brats, you’ve made some sort of wager about me, haven’t you?”

“What? No, we...would never..?” Pidge said, offering Allura a please-don’t-kill-me smile.

“Okay,” Keith cut in, “but in all seriousness, can I please just get my GED and get it done with? Do you know how embarrassing it is to be the almost nineteen-year-old senior?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad, you big drama queen.”

“Keith, you’ve come so far,” Allura said. “It’s your senior year. You’ve got less than nine months before graduation. Do you really want to quit now?”

“Allura, I’m not quitting,” he argued. “Quitting would be if I just said ‘fuck it’ and stopped going to school - ”

“Keith! Language!”

“Yeah, sorry. But my point is, I’m not quitting. A GED is just as good as a diploma, and I can use the time I would be spending bored off my a...ah, butt, in school to get a job and work.”

“If Keith is dropping out and getting a GED, I want to, too,” Pidge said.

“Absolutely not!” Allura gasped, looking at Pidge as if she had suggested the three of them strip naked, coat themselves in goat blood, and parade through town.

“Oh come on, Allura, I skipped _two grades,_ ” Pidge groaned. “I’m graduating in June, too! If you think Keith is bored off his ass at school, imagine how I feel! Why can’t I just get it over with?”

“You’re not old enough to get a learner’s permit in this state, half-pint,” Keith quipped. “What would you even do all day, play video games?”

“I could learn with Allura!” Pidge turned to her. “You can teach me all kinds of real witchy stuff, like how to turn Keith into a toad when he pisses me off!”

“Absolutely not!” Allura said. “As long as you two are living under my roof, you’re going to finish high school and get your diplomas, or so help me Hecate, I will - !”

She froze mid-threat, spine stiff and shoulder hunched, the pose of a cornered animal. A moment later, Keith tensed - the energy in the air had changed, he could feel it. Pidge was similarly on her guard, clutching her grease-stained paper plate as if she planned on fending off an army with it.

Allura whipped around, quickly getting to her feet, her food forgotten. A blinding blue-white light filled the room, and when the light had died down enough for them to see, Keith and Pidge nearly dropped their plates in unison. A man stood in the middle of their living room - but he wasn’t completely there. A bluish glow emanated from him, and every so often, he flickered slightly at the edge, like a glitchy program. Though his hair and full beard were stark white, his brown skin was still mostly smooth, with only a few lines to indicate that he had aged beyond all of them - but even those were deceptive, as his true age was not measured in years, but in centuries.

Allura gasped. “ _Father?_ ”

“Holy shit, Gramps!” Pidge blurted, putting a hand over her heart. “You scared the hell out of us!”

Allura was so caught up in her father’s sudden appearance, she didn’t even bother to fuss at Pidge for cursing. Instead, she tentatively stepped towards him.

“Father, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Of course, darling,” Alfor smiled, but there was something off about it. “The Council will be arriving in a few minutes.”

“The Council?” Keith looked to Allura. “I didn’t know we had a Council meeting…”

An unsettled feeling was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the pizza he’d just scarfed down. It certainly didn’t improve when Allura turned to him with an uncertain look.

“I...I didn’t, either…”

“I’m sorry,” Alfor apologized, “but it is...rather urgent. I told them I would come ahead to warn you of their arrival.”

“Thank you, Father.” Allura turned to look at Keith and Pidge. All three of them were still dressed for Arizona’s unreasonably hot Septembers, which meant that, in addition to being unprepared for Washington’s cooler climate, they were also woefully underdressed for a meeting with Alfor and his Council. “I suppose we need to change clothes.”

Keith sighed, trying to keep the unsettled feeling at bay, and shuffled towards the stairs. “You’re lucky I brought my nice Council outfit.”

He was about halfway up the stairs when he heard footsteps pound up the stairs after him. Pidge appeared at his elbow, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“What do you think this is about?”

“I dunno,” he said with a shrug, trying to come across as vaguely flippant so he didn’t act as worried as he felt.

Pidge shook her head. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Well, at least he wasn’t alone.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I do, too. But we won’t know until we actually sit through this. So…” he stopped in front of his room, making little shooing motions at Pidge. “Go get dressed and let’s see what this is all about.”

* * *

 

Getting dressed didn’t take terribly long, but even as he fastened the buttons that marched up the front of the black coat, intricately embroidered with cherry blossoms, Keith couldn’t help but quietly worry. The last time Alfor and the Council had appeared with this little of a warning had been right after a very pissy _creature_ had taken off the front door of their apartment in Tucson. Even now, he shuddered at the thought of what exactly had broken down their door - but he forced himself to quickly put it out of his mind. When he’d been very little, his father had told him stories - stories he’d gotten from _his_ mother, who had been full-fledged Navajo - and he had always said to never mention that particular creature’s name, to not even think about it, because it could find you that way.

The thought of his parents had sent a pang of homesickness through Keith. He twisted his sleeve tighter, swallowing hard. Even after all these years, even with Allura’s help and the help of her coven, both of his parents were still trapped in the Seelie Court, and he still felt just as useless to help as he had been the day his family’s door had been kicked in by Unseelie Fae.

His door rattled as a fist banged against it. “Keith! We’re gonna be late!”

He sighed. The Council meeting. He still had an incredibly bad feeling about it, even with the warning of the Council’s impending visit. And now, as Keith stood in front of one of the windows, picking idly at the flared, frilly sleeves of the coat, he couldn’t help but feel very much like a lamb that was being led to slaughter.

“Keith!” Pidge hollered from the other side of the door. “Get your skinny ass out here before we’re late and we get yelled at!”

“I’m coming!” With one last nervous yank of his sleeve and a smoothing of the matching skirt, he headed for the door and opened it. Pidge stood on the other side of it, wearing a moss-green dress that made her hazel eyes seem sharper. Her mop of short, messy hair was wrestled back into a ponytail, and looked like she’d managed to run a brush through it. Her bare feet were a far cry from Keith’s heavy platform boots.

“About time, Elvira,” she teased. “I thought maybe the Black Parade finally came for you.”

“Eat me.”

“Seriously, though, just because you’re a filthy Wiccan doesn’t mean you have to dress like such a stereotype. You look like an extra from an MCR video.”

“Filthy Wiccan?” Keith raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to have that talk again about how you’re literally descended from the mother of Wicca?”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure that if she was here, she’d think your fashion sense is trash, too,” Pidge responded, sticking her tongue out as she bounced ahead of Keith on the stairs.

“Would you like me to curse you? I’d be more than happy to if you’re going to keep ragging on my fashion choices.”

“How are you going to do that? I’m the only one with the magical powers!” Pidge’s grin was practically maniacal. “All you have are pointy ears and a bad temper!”

Keith sighed. “You know, next time my ass gets dragged to the Seelie Court for dinner with my grandfather, I’m taking you with me so I can leave you there.”

He expected Pidge to rib him right back, as she had been all day. However, her face fell, eyes filling with tears. Keith stopped short, cursing himself for his stupidity. That had been the wrong thing to say, and he’d hit a _very_ sore spot.

“Pidge, I - ”

Before he could continue, seven semi-translucent men and women appeared behind Alfor, who was still standing in the middle of the living room. As they appeared, Allura swept into the living room, resplendent in a lacy white-and-cream dress, whose train of ruffles and sheer fabrics rustled softly around her bare feet as she walked. In the time in which they’d all spent getting dressed, she’d not only gotten dressed, but somehow had had time to apply a crescent moon at her hairline in blue woad - and without getting any of it in her hair, which, to Keith, was the real accomplishment. Somehow, despite the tight corset that made up the bodice of her dress, she managed a deep curtsy for the Council.

“Father,” she greeted. “Esteemed members of the Council.”

One of the Council members - a rather stuffy, older-looking man named Trayling - sniffed loudly, looking around the mostly-empty house in disapproval. “I see you’ve moved again.”

“An unfortunate necessity,” Allura stated. “Our previous location was compromised.”

“Indeed,” Alfor said. “That was, ah, what the Council wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

Allura’s brows furrowed. “About the attack?”

“About the move, actually.” Keith knew the young, white-haired woman who spoke this time: Viviane, Allura’s mother, was one of the Council’s newest members, who had only just gotten her place on the Council after petitioning for hundreds of years. She could have been Allura’s twin; they both shared the same dark skin, white hair, and crystal-blue eyes. Viviane, however, was not as warm and kindly as her daughter. She reminded Keith of a sword - sharp-edged, unbreakable steel.

“As I said, this was necessary,” Allura said. “The thing that came after us took the door off the hinges.”

“Allura,” Keith said, “I thought we said not to speak of it…”

Allura’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, sorry, Keith.”

“Be as that may,” another woman, this one a woman named Hira with a shock of magenta-colored hair, said, “that does not change the fact that you have relocated seven times in two years.”

“Honerva keeps sending creatures to track us down.”

“The creatures of the haggard witch do not concern us,” another Council member - a man named Alaric, with close-cropped white hair, glasses, and a smug face - stated. 

“You don’t understand what was sent to our apartment that night,” Keith said, stomach clenching at the memory of that night.

Alaric snorted in derision. “The witch only sent a - ”

“Don’t say its name!” Keith blurted. 

Alaric’s face twisted in a scowl. “Insolent boy! You dare speak out of turn at a Council meeting? You are nothing but a half-bred child.”

“The creature is not to be joked about. Or taken lightly,” Keith warned him. 

“The boy speaks true,” Hira said with a nod. “It is the most evil of creatures to the Diné people. The boy is a descendent of theirs.”

“As I was saying, our concern is not the creatures the witch has sent after you,” Alaric stated, sounding like he was on the verge of an adult tantrum. “Our concern is the attention you’ve brought upon yourself.”

Allura opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly as confused as Keith felt. He glanced over at Pidge, who also looked lost.

“I...I don’t understand,” Allura finally said. “Are you...are you implying that it’s my fault that Honerva is sending creatures after myself and my apprentices?”

“No, of course not,” Alfor began, but before he could continue, Viviane stepped forward, her blue eyes cold.

“You have become a target, Allura,” she said. “You have put not only yourself and your apprentices in jeopardy, but the entirety of the coven of Cassiopeia, as well.”

“Here will be different, though,” Allura promised, stepping towards Viviane. Her own hands were glowing blue, losing substance until they were transparent. Her eyes seemed to glow an even brighter blue as her two insubstantial hands closed around one of Viviane’s. “Kolivan has promised that we will be safe here.”

Alaric snorted again. “Kolivan is Fae.” His eyes, dark and cruel, cut over to Keith, and he sneered. “You cannot trust the Fae.”

Keith snarled, feeling the points of too-sharp incisors pressing against his bottom lip. He made to take a step forward, but was stopped by an invisible wall before him. Glancing over, he saw that Pidge was holding him in place with a raised hand, her teeth clenched with the effort.

“See?” Alaric asked with a smug smile. “Her own apprentice is only half-Fae, but would turn his teeth and claws against a member of the very coven that took him in, when he was unwanted everywhere else.”

“You didn’t take me in,” Keith spat. “Allura did. Only Allura.”

“Watch your dick,” Pidge warned, “or I’ll let him go and see how you do against a half-Fae.”

“Pidge, please,” Allura begged, before turning her attention back to her cousin. “Things will be different this time. I swear.”

Viviane looked down at their two joined hands, then back up at her daughter. For a moment, Keith swore he could see a crack in his surrogate grandmother’s usually hard exterior. A moment later, however, she withdrew her hand from Allura’s.

“I am sorry, Allura. But the Council has already reached a decision.”

Allura’s eyes went wide, and she turned to Alfor. “Father...please…”

Alfor looked stricken. “I am sorry, my daughter. But...there is nothing I can do.”

Still smirking, Alaric snapped his fingers. A furled piece of parchment appeared in his hands, which he unrolled. Keith’s stomach bottomed out.

“Fala di Castula,” he began, his voice authoritative and unforgiving. A shiver went through the room at the use of Allura’s true name, “daughter of Raimon and Nimue, the coven of Cassiopeia has no choice but to declare a vote of no confidence. You and your apprentices, Akira Kogane and Katherine Holt, will be disavowed from the coven.”

“No…” Allura whispered.

“You can’t do that!” Pidge hollered; she made a move towards the Council, and, with her charm to hold him in place dropped, Keith had to lunge and physically grab her to keep her from reaching them.

“Additionally, all your debts will be called upon for repayment to the coven, to the sum of...one and a half million dollars.” Alaric smirked. “My, someone has been busy.”

Allura looked as though she’d been slapped. Alaric rolled the paper back up; it disappeared from his hands in a wisp of black smoke. 

“The Council thanks you for your time, Fala.” He spat her true name like a curse. “I hope your gamble with the Seelie Court’s protection pays off.”

And just like that, he was gone, as if he had never existed to begin with. The other Council members winked away after him, disappearing one by one. Viviane refused to make eye contact with her daughter as she disappeared into nothingness. Keith almost swore she looked guilty.

Alfor was the last to leave. He stared at Allura for a long moment, face full of despair - and regret. He reached to put a hand on Allura’s cheek.

“I am sorry, my darling.”

Allura flinched away from him, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. A look of hurt flashed across Alfor’s face, and he dropped his gaze as he finally winked out of existence, leaving only Allura, Pidge, and Keith.

The room was deathly silent. Keith finally let go of Pidge, and as soon as her feet hit the floor, she took a few tentative steps towards their guardian.

“Allura?”

She turned slowly to face them, her gaze vacant and uncomprehending for a long moment. Finally, she stirred, as if waking from a doze, and as she came back to awareness, she yelled one word loud enough to make the rafters shake.

“Fuck!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, here's [Pidge's outfit](https://lppool.catalogsites.net/lf?source=url%5Bfile:itemimages/PC/HiRes/PB8100H.tif%5D&sink=format%5Bpng%5D), [Allura's outfit](https://lppool.catalogsites.net/lf?source=url%5Bfile:itemimages/PC/HiRes/PB6145H.tif%5D&sink=format%5Bpng%5D), and [Keith's outfit.](https://hottopic.scene7.com/is/image/HotTopic/10740154_hi?%24pdp_hero_zoom%24)
> 
>  
> 
> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr!](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	3. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Pidge's first day of school goes a little differently than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your butts, folks, this is a long chapter - 5,000+ words!
> 
> EDIT 6/16: Edited to reflect some changes made to Chapter 2.

Keith lay on the floor in his room, unable to sleep.

Allura had chased him and Pidge upstairs no more than five minutes after the Council meeting ended. They had both protested vehemently, wanting to make sure she was okay - because the end of that Council meeting had been a betrayal the likes of which Keith hadn’t seen since he’d been forced to read Julius Caesar in sophomore year - but Allura had chased them both upstairs with a forced smile, eyes full of unshed tears, and the threat of eternal grounding if they “didn’t get their asses to bed now.”

He knew Allura had been down there crying after they’d gone to bed. His sensitive Fae ears had heard it, and, had it not been for the fact that he was certain that Allura would yell at him, and for the fact that he was absolute shit at comforting people, he would have gone down there. Now, however, the house was dead silent.

The door creaked. Dimly, he could see it open, and his heart missed a beat. He hadn’t heard Allura come up to bed - he was pretty sure she had passed out downstairs - and Pidge was asleep in her room. And while Allura’s familiars were all terrifically clever, none of them had the capacity to open a door that had been pushed closed all the way.

The only thing it could have been was some nasty beast, come to do Honerva’s bidding and drag the three of them to the Unseelie Court.

He slid his hand along the floor, blindly searching for the knife he’d gotten from his mother on his sixteenth birthday. If he was going to be dragged to the Unseelie Court in the dead of night to be tortured by their crazy-ass empress, then he was going to give whatever fearsome beast that had come for him a run for its damn money. His entire body went tense, ready to spring.

“Keith? Are you still awake?”

Keith went slack at the sound of the familiar voice. The knife clattered out of his hands. “Jesus Christ, Pidge! Don’t fucking scare me like that!”

“Do you kiss your mom with that mouth?”

Keith propped himself up on his elbows to give Pidge a look.

“Oh. Sorry. Low blow.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. This house makes weird noises.” Pidge shuffled her way around to his right side, and Keith could see that she was dragging her sleeping bag with her. He groaned.

“I thought the point of this house and all its bedrooms was that we wouldn’t have to share a room anymore?”

“Yeah, well…” Pidge trailed off, dropping her sleeping bag on the ground at Keith’s left side with a loud _fwump_. “I wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“About the meaning of life.” In the dim light, he could see Pidge scowling. “About the Council meeting, dumbass. This is some pretty serious shit.”

Keith sighed, rolling over onto his side to look at his foster sister. “Yeah. It is.”

“Where did that even come from?” Pidge sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Like, I know Alaric has been a dick since about the beginning of time, but like...Allura’s been part of the coven of Cassiopeia for like, ever.”

“Since its founding, right after the Empire War,” Keith said, remembering the stories that had been told to him as a little boy, at his mother’s side, or while sitting on his grandfather’s knee. “It’s been a good five hundred years or so.”

Pidge whistled. “Five hundred years, and they just...kicked Allura to the curb. What the fuck.”

“I don’t think everyone was entirely willing in that decision,” Keith said, remembering Alfor’s stricken expression, Vivane’s attempts to hide her guilty looks. “Alfor wasn’t entirely on board with it.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly see Gramps trying to stick up for Allura, either. I thought he was supposed to be the king of basically everything? I mean, for Hecate’s sake, he was _Merlin_! You don’t fuck with Merlin!”

"Yeah, but...he was Merlin in a completely different time, Pidge. I don’t think he has the power he used to have.”

“Yeah, well what about Viviane? She’s Allura’s freaking _mom_ , and she just did her dirty like this!”

“She’s the newest member of the Council. She’s literally been denied a seat on the Council for hundreds of years because she’s a nymph. She probably would have lost her position if she’d tried to go up against Alaric. Besides…” Keith’s little smile was a very bitter one. “Moms do shitty things, sometimes.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” Pidge apologized.

Keith shrugged.

“I still think there’s something more going on here,” Pidge said. “Something outside of that ‘vote of no confidence’ bullshit that Alaric fed us, because if our constant moving around was really that much of a problem, the Council would have come to us way before now.”

“Maybe.”

“And they didn’t see that thing back in Tucson - ”

“Pidge, we’re _not_ talking about _that_ , remember?”

“Oh. Yeah. Anyways, the point is, this is all very fucked up and suspicious and I don’t like it.”

“I don’t, either,” Keith said. “Unfortunately, there’s...not a whole lot we can do. We’ve been disavowed from the coven.”

“And we owe them a lot of money, too.”

“Not to mention the fact that they were our main source of financial support.” Keith sighed. “So for right now, we are fucked. Royally.”

Keith’s room fell silent at his declaration. In fact, the only sound in the entire house was the sound of Rover, Pidge’s familiar, rustling in his cage over in Pidge’s room. This lasted long enough that Keith’s eyelids drooped, and he was about to doze off when, at long last, Pidge spoke.

“Keith?”

Her voice was small, just above a whisper. He frowned, sitting up.

“Yeah?”

“The coven...they were the ones helping me look for Dad and Matt, since your family can’t enter the Unseelie Court. But...without the coven...does that mean that…” Her voice broke, catching on a sob. “Does that mean...D-Dad and M-Matt...are..?”

She sniffled loudly, scrubbing a hand over her face. A tiny sob escaped her. In the two years of living with her, Keith had never seen Pidge cry about her parents or brother - she’d always greeted the fact that her dad and brother were stuck somewhere in the Unseelie Court with the determination that one day, they’d march in, kick down Emperor Zarkon’s door, and get her father and brother back. But...he understood her pain, her fear. He wiggled out of his sleeping bag, crawling over to sit next to Pidge and putting an arm around her shoulder - a move that surprised him as much as it did her.

“Hey,” he said, “just because those dickheads kicked us out of the coven doesn’t mean we’re giving up on your family, okay? You, me, and Allura, we’re going to get your dad and Matt out of the Unseelie Court. We don’t need a bunch of stuffed shirts telling us to stand still, and listen, and...and…”

“And to c-cover up,” Pidge said, managing a giggle through her tears.

“Yeah, exactly,” Keith said with a nod. “And to cover up, because they’re jealous of how good I look in a crop top. So screw those guys. You, me, and Allura, we’ll figure all of this out. I promise.”

Pidge nodded, scrubbing her sleeve over her face one more time. “Thanks, Keith.”

He nodded. “I mean...I get it. I miss my parents, too.”

Pidge nodded, hiccupping slightly. “Yeah. Can I...can I stay in here tonight?”

“Sure.” Keith leaned over to pull his sleeping bag a little closer. “You’re right, it’s kind of creepy in this house.”

“And Allura and I haven’t set up the protective wards yet, so you never know what kind of riffraff might try to wander in.”

“Safety in numbers.” Keith crawled back onto his sleeping bag, wiggling into it.

“Yeah, definitely.” Pidge yawned. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Pidge.”

“...Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

He gave a nod, laying back down and closing his eyes. He would never admit it, not even on pain of death, but the sound of Pidge’s soft breathing less than a foot away was comforting. It reminded him of Tucson and their crowded little bedroom, or Rochester, where Pidge had first joined their family, and how Keith would always wake up to a scrawny thirteen-year-old curled up next to him, seeking the comfort of a brother she had lost. And, as he lay there, listening to Pidge’s breathing even out, it reminded him of more distant memories, of a little house on the fringes of the desert, of fairy tales being whispered as his room grew dark, and of a little girl in the bed across from him grinning at him with baby fangs.

_Home._

He fell asleep to the memory of his mother’s voice and his sister’s hand holding his own.

* * *

Neither Keith nor Pidge were particularly known for being morning people, but by the time Keith finally dragged himself out of his sleeping bag - after an impressive fourteen hits of the snooze on his phone’s alarm - watery sunlight was filtering in through his windows, and Pidge was nowhere to be seen.

“Keith!” Allura hollered from downstairs. “Out of bed! Now! You’re going to be late for school!”

He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. While he thought it was stupid as hell that he and Pidge were starting school on a Friday, instead of waiting until Monday like normal people, he couldn’t deny that he took comfort in the fact that Allura at least sounded like her usual self.

He didn’t have time for a shower - unless he wanted Allura to actually skin him alive - so a few sprays of deodorant and a makeup wipe had to make do. His options for clothing were a little limited, since most of his clothes were in the back of a moving van somewhere in Oregon, so he grabbed the first shirt and pair of pants he came across, yanking them on, then stuffed his feet into a pair of battered black Converse. His backpack sat by the door, and he pawed through it; it was mostly personal items, with maybe two notebooks and a handful of nubby pencils making up his school supplies. Most of the personal items were taken out and piled into a haphazard stack, but, upon reflection, he kept his sketchbook and his Rider-Waite tarot deck.

“ _Keith!_ ”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” He grabbed his backpack and pounded downstairs - or, rather, rattled, as the chains hooked at his right hip bounced off his thigh with every step. Pidge and Allura were waiting expectantly at the front door, Pidge in her usual jeans-and-a-nerdy-tee look, and Allura having changed from her Council dress to a pair of jeans and a colorful blouse. She still looked off, however, despite the change of clothes. There were dark, sunken circles under her eyes, the woad-painted crescent moon was now smeared across her forehead and into her hairline, and her hair was rumpled, as if she’d been anxiously running her hands through it all night. She looked Keith up and down as he hit the bottom of the stairs, then sighed very, _very_ loudly.

“Keith…”

“Oh my God,” Pidge said. “See, this shit is why nobody wants to sit with you at lunch.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Pidge pointed at his tank top. “The _bitchcraft_ tank top? _Seriously_? Not only are you like, a walking dress code violation, but you might as well run through the halls with a big old banner that says ‘come see the freakshow’ and gives our home address.”

“Keith,” Allura began, trying and honestly failing to sound particularly patient, “is this really the first impression you want to make at your new school?”

He shrugged. “I was a little limited on choices, since most of my clothes are somewhere in Oregon. This is what was clean.”

“Sure,” Pidge drawled.

Allura sighed again, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. She snapped her fingers, and Keith’s tank top transformed into a plain black tee. He frowned down at it.

“Where the hell’s the shirt I was just wearing?”

“Back in your suitcase. _Folded_ , I might add. Now come along, we’re already running late.”

He gave Allura a look. She ushered Pidge past him, only briefly glancing his way.

“Be happy I let you keep the pants on. Now come on.”

* * *

The ride to school was the longest and most uncomfortable ride of Keith’s life, and probably also the quietest ride in the van’s history. Keith had to bite back his stream of questions - _what are we going to do? Do we have to move again? How are we going to pay for the house? Did the Council take all of our money? What will we do if your crazy-ass godmother sends another monster after us?_ \- because he was pretty sure if he asked Allura any of those particular questions, she would either cry or explode.

They pulled up in front of a bright red building that was all slanting roofs and large windows. The parking lot was full of cars, but there were no buses or students to be seen. From the back seat, Pidge huffed an impatient sigh.

“Nice going, Dork Knight. We’re late.”

“Allura,” Keith began quietly, “you okay?”

She turned her head to look at him, eyes bright with tears. For a moment, he thought she was going to break down into tears, but instead, she sighed heavily.

“I...I don’t know, Keith,” she admitted. “I’m rather at a loss after last night. I’m not quite sure where to go from here.” She took a deep breath, then gave him and Pidge a weary smile. “But don’t worry too much about me, okay? Try to enjoy your first day of school.”

Keith and Pidge nodded, bidding their guardian goodbye and hopping out of the van. As the van pulled away, Keith felt his heart inexplicably drop into the pit of his stomach.

Pidge tapped the back of his hand. Looking down, he saw that she had offered her hand. He glanced up at her face; she was smiling, but it had a hint of nervousness to it, too.

“Safety in numbers,” she said.

He nodded, clasping hands with her, and, hand-in-hand, they approached the front doors of the school.

* * *

Unfortunately, they didn’t have their first two classes together, so Keith sat through Trigonometry and Japanese III by himself, with the distinct impression that he was being stared at by everyone in the class. When he walked into Biology II and found Pidge sitting at an open table near the window, he thought he might actually keel over in relief.

“I have never been so happy to see you,” he said as he dropped his books on the table next to Pidge.

She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Who are you and what have you done with Keith?”

“People have been staring at me all morning.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Can you blame them?”

He plopped down on the stool next to her. “I hate being the new kid.”

“I’m not all the fond of it either, y’know? You’re not the only one that’s moved seven times.”

“Yeah, but you make friends a lot faster,” Keith said. “All the people in your nerdy classes want to be your friend.”

Pidge opened her mouth to reply, but closed it as the teacher brought the class to attention. After a generic greeting, she turned to the table where Keith and Pidge were sitting with a smile on her face.

“Before we begin class, we have two new students joining us today! Could you two please stand up?”

Keith wondered if this was what it felt like to be a deer in the headlights. A glance out of the corner of his eyes showed that Pidge’s cheeks had gone bright red. Slowly, they both stood up.

“Class, this is Keith Kogane” - Keith grimaced at his teacher’s butchered pronunciation of his last name - “and Pidge Gunderson. They came to us all the way from Tucson, Arizona! I’m sure it was an adjustment coming here!”

“Yeah…” Keith muttered.

“It’s a lot hotter there,” Pidge chimed in, looking just as uncomfortable as Keith felt.

“Well, I know that we’re all going to do our best to make Keith and Pidge feel welcome - right?”

The class responded with a half-hearted agreement, and, seemingly satisfied with their response, the teacher launched into an explanation of the day’s agenda. Pidge diligently took notes, head hunched between her shoulders as if she were trying to turtle her way into her shirt. Keith, meanwhile, opened his notebook, but only made a few doodles, zoning out...at least, until he caught a very strong whiff of chemicals and formaldehyde.

“Dissections!” the teacher stated, slicing open a package and unleashing the smell of preserved death upon the room. “Keith, Pidge, you actually came along at a very good time, as we’re going to spend the next few classes in dissections, in order to compare bodily systems across the species.”

Keith found himself called up to the front to pick up a tray of scalpels, forceps, and other unpleasant-looking metal objects. When he got back to the table, he found that not only had their teacher dropped off a fetal pig, but she was currently arguing with a student standing at the table. The girl looked straight out of a _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine, wearing a rose-colored cardigan and a knee-length skirt, her brown hair pulled back into a simple braid. Keith noticed something golden glinting around her neck.

“Ms. Montgomery!” the girl said. “You can’t expect me to take place in this...this..!”

“June,” Ms. Montgomery began, patiently but firmly cutting the girl off, “you and your parents signed a form at the beginning of the year, stating that you were aware of and willing to participate in dissections over the course of the year.”

“But this is an _unborn pig!_ ” June protested. “What’s next, are you going to plop an unborn baby on the table and tell us to go wild on it?”

“June, you know that would never happen.”

“So why did this baby pig have to suffer? All life is precious to God, even the life of a pig, you know!”

Ms. Montgomery seemed to be at a loss for words, so, when she spotted Keith at the table, trying to figure out what was going on, she turned to him with a big smile that seemed more than a little forced.

“Ah, Keith! I hope you don’t mind, but I pulled two partners for you and Pidge to work with, since we’re doing this dissection in groups of four. This is June, she’ll be one of your partners.”

June turned to look at Keith, and he realized that the golden thing around her neck was actually a rather large cross. She looked at Keith as if he was something nasty she’d stepped in. He sighed. He was used to reactions like this from the Bible-thumpers, because there was always at least one in any given school, but did they always have to be so rude about it?

Pidge, meanwhile, didn’t seem to be doing much better with their other partner. A large blonde meathead in a letterman’s jacket had taken a seat at their table, and he was staring at her like she was something growing in a test tube.

“What kind of name is _Pidge?_ ” he finally asked as Keith and June sat down at the table.

“What kind of a name is _Brayden?_ ” she shot back, picking up one of the scalpels. “Keith, hold the pig.”

“I can’t believe I have to do this,” June muttered, giving Keith whatever the born-again evangelical Christian version of the evil eye was as he steadied the fetal pig. Pidge placed the tip of the scalpel to the sternum, but before she could cut, Brayden snatched the scalpel out of her hands.

“Sorry, pipsqueak,” he said, “but I think this is a job for a real man.”

“Uh, I’m not a - ” Pidge began, but then Brayden plunged the scalpel into the pig’s belly with a loud squelching sound, and that took all her attention. “Dude! You’re supposed to cut the skin, not stab the pig! It’s already dead!”

Keith winced as Brayden roughly sawed the pig open. As he peeled back the skin, a smell worse than death enveloped the table. Brayden recoiled, and June looked like she might actually keel over.

“Nice going, genius,” Pidge snapped. “You punctured the stomach. Now there’s stomach goo everywhere.”

Keith leaned in, taking a glance into the pig’s ravaged innards. “The intestines and liver are sliced open, too. That’s probably why it smells so bad.”

If looks could have killed, the look Pidge gave Brayden would have wiped out his entire family line. “Are you trying to make all of us fail? We’re supposed to study the pig’s systems, not hack its guts to pieces.”

Brayden muttered a half-hearted apology as Pidge picked up her notebook and a pencil, and Keith slid his hands into the open cavity of the pig’s body, pulling out the ruined liver and a handful of severed intestines. They were slimy, and the smell was probably the most disgusting thing he’d ever smelled, but he’d handled guts before under Allura’s tutelage. She might have been a strict vegetarian, but even she’d gotten over her qualms about the killing of animals to teach Keith haruspicy.

“All right,” Pidge began with a long-suffering sigh, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “Let’s see if we can salvage our grade. Keith, what do we have?”

“Well…” Keith studied the handful of intestines, then glanced back into the pig to check out the punctured stomach, “there’s traces of digestive activity, so this pig had the ability to swallow by the time it died.”

“I knew it. They killed a baby pig so we could...play around in its guts!” June said, voice shrill, and Keith wondered if she was actually going to rebuke him and Pidge right there at the table. “Modern science is absolutely barbaric.”

“You know, I grew up Catholic,” Pidge remarked, “and maybe I’m a little rusty when it comes to the Bible, but I do remember something in the Old Testament about sacrificing animals to appease God. That was in there, right?”

She looked up at June expectantly. June opened her mouth, then closed it, scowling darkly at Pidge, who only returned the look.

“Thought so. Besides, what this pig was swallowing was amniotic fluid. It died before it ever took a breath of real air.” Pidge poked at the lungs. “See? Full of fluid. This was a stillborn pig.”

Keith didn’t think it was possible for June to look even more scandalized than she had already been, and yet, she did. He half expected her to pull out of a strand of pearls to put around her neck, just so she could clutch them in indignation. Brayden, meanwhile, snorted in disgust.

“Freaks,” he muttered.

 _Freak._ It was not a term Keith was unaccustomed to; he and Allura had spent a few months in the Bible Belt before they took in Pidge, and freak had probably been the nicest name the kids at school had called him. Even outside of the deep South, people had always looked at him funny and whispered that insult behind his back.

But there was something about Brayden’s alpha-male personality that really bugged him; something about the way the other boy had spat the word _freaks_ that set his temper on edge. June, looking at him like she expected him to go full _Exorcist_ in the middle of class wasn’t helping.

_Oh, if it’s a freak they want, it’s a freak they’ll get._

“You know,” Keith began lightly, “these entrails don’t just show us things that were, or things that are. Sometimes...they show us things that have not yet come to pass.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw panic flash across Pidge’s face, and she began shaking her head subtly, the look on her face screaming _don’t you dare start your weird divination shit or I will fucking stab you with this pencil_ as loudly and clearly as if she’d shouted it.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Brayden asked with a sneer.

Oh, this was too good an opportunity to pass up. Keith cleared his throat, channeling his best late-night collect-call psychic. “Did you know the future can be told using the entrails of animals? Gross, yes, but also surprisingly insightful.” He held up the liver to demonstrate. “Hmmm...I see some pretty promising things. A football scholarship? That’s impressive. Oh, and Homecoming King, too? Quite the star you are.” He paused, drawing it out for dramatic effect. “But...oh…”

“What?” Brayden asked, leaning in. Despite proclaiming Keith to be a freak, he was eating his not-entirely-true-or-false predictions up. June looked horrified, and Pidge was currently banging her head lightly on the table.

“I don’t know,” Keith began, fighting down the urge to grin like a maniac, “there’s something here that looks...troubling.”

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t tell.” Keith pointed to the giant chunk Brayden had taken out of the liver. “You took out this part of the liver, and it broke the reading of your fate.” He heaved a dramatic sigh, lowering the liver and giving Brayden his most serious look. “This could be bad for you.”

Brayden looked as if he’d seen a ghost; he stared at Keith with a horrified expression, face bloodless and body trembling. Satisfied with his work, Keith turned to June with a bright look.

“Would you like to know what the entrails said about you?”

June’s response was to promptly vomit all over the table between them. Pidge yelped and grabbed the notebook off the table. Her yelping and June’s retching drew the attention of the surrounding tables, and in less than a minute, the class had devolved into chaos.

By the time Ms. Montgomery had sent June to the nurse’s office, called the custodians to clean the mess, and calmed the class, the bell was already ringing for fourth block. The kids all bolted out, Ms. Montgomery calling half-heartedly that they would try to finish the pig dissection tomorrow. Keith headed towards his Trigonometry class with something of a smug sense of satisfaction at his handiwork in the Biology lab.

* * *

“I hate you so much right now.”

Keith smirked as Pidge slammed her tray down on the table in front of him. The rest of the student body was gradually filtering in, though the end of the table Keith sat at remained empty.

“And yet, here you are, sitting with me at lunch.”

“That’s only because I don’t know anyone else well enough yet.” She took a seat, still glaring daggers at him. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Keith said, putting on his most innocent face. “I can’t help it when predictions come to me.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit and you know it. Was anything you told him even true?”

Keith wiggled his hand. “Eh, I’d say it was like fifty percent true and fifty percent made up vague guesses? I really did see some kind of trouble coming, but like, that could be something stupid, like he gets grounded for sneaking out, or a bird shits on his car or something.”

“Or you could have given this boy his death sentence in the middle of class.” She shook her head. “And did you have to make Bible-girl toss her cookies all over the table? My notebook still smells like sour milk and stomach goo.”

“You can’t pin that all on me. Maybe the smell of formaldehyde and pig carcass finally got to her.”

A shadow fell over their table. Looking up, Keith and Pidge found a long-haired, broad-shoulder guy standing next to them, holding a tray of food, his attention fixed on Keith.

“You’re Keith, right? The new guy from Arizona?”

“Um...yes?”

“Dude! I heard about what happened in Montgomery’s third-period Bio class! You’re like a legend now, Keith! Did you really make Brayden Miller pass out?”

“I mean, he didn’t pass out, but he...looked...close…” Keith said, trailing off as the long-haired guy sat down next to him, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

“Dude, about time someone around here took that dickhead down a notch.” He nodded to Keith, impressed. “Name’s Morgan. You’re the talk of the school, you know?”

“I am?”

“News travels fast around here.” Morgan leaned back, making a “come-here” gesture, and when Keith and Pidge looked up, there were about a dozen kids approaching them. None of them were quite the hardcore goths that had been Keith’s friends back in Tucson, but they were all definitely a little left of normal. As they gathered around, taking seats at the table around Keith and Pidge, he spotted piercings, tattoos, a few brightly-colored dye jobs, and even a guy with a decent baby-Mohawk. They all had questions for Keith, talking over each other in their excitement, with Morgan attempting to talk over them as he named them all off

“So there’s Aniyah, that’s Kai - ”

“Someone in Drama told me Brayden puked all over the place after you told his fortune - ”

“No, that was Jehovah June who blew chunks, I heard she was still going when she got to the nurse - ”

“Diego, Zain, and that’s Jeremy - ”

“Did you really read his future - ?”

“How’d you do that - ?”

“Did you watch a lot of those psychic hotline commercials growing up - ?”

“Alexis, but don’t call her that unless you want her to cut your dick off - ”

“Dude, you should totally go work for a psychic hotline! You’d make some bank - !”

As his newfound admirers all continued to talk over each other, Keith gave Pidge a shit-eating grin. She scowled, flipped him the bird, and went back to shoveling mashed potatoes into her mouth as if it was her sole purpose in life.

Something in Keith eased slightly as he sat there listening to the group talk and ask him questions. It was quite Tucson - no one and nothing could replace his friends there - but...it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	4. The Shadow Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coran's farmer's market is not quite what it appears to be on the surface...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys remember how I told you to hold on to your butts at the beginning of the last chapter, because it was like 5K words?
> 
> Yeah, this one's almost 7K. I might have gotten a little carried away.

Keith continued to ride the high of his unexpected popularity through the rest of the day, even as he and Pidge boarded the bus to get back to their house - at Allura’s request, via text message; she couldn’t pick them up because she was busy with something. Pidge pointedly ignored him all the way home, but he didn’t care; he was too busy chatting with Mason and Scarlett, two more of Morgan’s friends. 

When the bus rolled up in front of their new house, Keith bounded off of it - excited, for a change, to tell Allura about his first day at their new school. He drew up short at the bottom of the bus steps, however, at the sight of no fewer than two dozen plastic flamingos scattered throughout the yard, all of their beady black eyes fixed on the bus.

Pidge shoved at his back. “Move it, you knock-off Edgar Allan Poe, some of us want to…” 

She trailed off, looking around at the see of neon-pink plastic birds, before swearing a blasphemous blue streak that probably would have made Jehovah June pass out.

“We appear to have an infestation,” Keith remarked.

Pidge took a deep breath, bringing herself back under control, before she sighed an Oscar-worthy sigh. “It’s official. Allura’s gone off the deep end.”

“Somehow, this doesn’t seem like her style.” Keith’s gaze traveled across the lawn, before landing on an ancient and terribly familiar station wagon parked next to Allura’s minivan. “I think I know whose style it is, though…”

Pidge followed his gaze, then sighed. “Oh, not this guy again. Did he really bring all of these ugly-ass things to our house?”

“One way to find out.” Keith hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder and began picking his way across the lawn, having to sidestep flamingos as he did. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but he swore that the beady-black eyes of the birds were actually  _ following _ him on his way up to the door.

Upon entering the house, Keith and Pidge found Allura and Coran sitting in the middle of the living room in a pair of collapsible lawn chairs, each of them with a glass of wine in their hands. An open bottle, mostly empty, sat on the floor between them. While Allura still looked tired, it was clear she had showered and changed clothes, and she was laughing at something Coran had said. When she finally stopped laughing, she realized that Keith and Pidge were standing at the doorway of the living room, and she greeted them with a bright smile.

“You’re home! How was school?”

Pidge opened her mouth, looking ready to complain about Keith reading entrails in the middle of science class, but then she looked over at Coran - who was idly twirling one end of his mustache between his thumb and forefinger - and seemed to think better of it. 

“It was good,” she said simply.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “I’ve made some friends, I think.”

“Wonderful!” Allura smiled even bigger, clearly pleased. “As you can see, Coran dropped by with a few housewarming gifts.”

“Is that where the, ah...the flamingos came from?” Keith asked.

“I know we’re not quite a tropical paradise up here,” Coran began, “but they make such a colorful addition to any yard, don’t you think?”

Pidge and Keith exchanged looks again, nodding slowly. Keith was pretty sure that Coran had lost his marbles a long time ago, especially if he thought those ugly birds out front actually made the place look better, but he didn’t want to be rude.

“Oh, Keith, something came in the mail for you,” Allura said, pointing to a small folding TV tray that had been set up in the corner. A parcel wrapped in brown paper and covered in brightly-colored stamps rested upon it. As Coran began to blather on about plastic flamingos - and then, about real flamingos, from his time down in the Everglades or somewhere like that - Keith carefully peeled off the paper and opened the box, gently tipping the contents into his hand. A cascade of packing peanuts poured onto the floor around him, and then, a simple necklace slid out, landing squarely in his palm.

“What’s that?” Pidge asked, nudging Keith with her elbow.

“Some kind of necklace,” he said, raising it to eye level and turning it. The chain was a simple fiber cord, but it was the charm on the necklace that really caught his attention. It was only about the size of a shooter marble, and a pearly white color, with a smoky silver swirled within. The swirl started at the bottom, then, as it rose to the top of the charm, it split off into nine separate branches that curled like foxes’ tails. “Someone was selling it on eBay, and it just...spoke to me.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Oh, before I forget!” Coran blurted out, his attention jumping over to Keith. “There’s a farmer’s market downtown tomorrow. Allura here said that you used to sell things at the farmers’ market in Arizona?”

“Um...yes, I did.”

“Excellent! Well, I’m heading there tomorrow to sell some things of my own, and I figured I could give you a ride in, introduce you to the usual crowd, that sort of thing. My way of welcoming you to town.”

“Oh, um...Allura can drive me, though…”

“Actually, I can’t,” Allura said. “I’m going into Seattle tomorrow morning. I wanted to spread the word around about my consulting business, of course, but...I’d also like to put the word out that we have rooms for rent.”

Keith and Pidge exchanged looks, half confused, half wary, before they both turned back to Allura.

“What?” Keith asked.

“I figured we could offer some of the empty rooms here for rent,” Allura said.

“You mean...take in boarders?” Pidge asked.

“We don’t need this entire house. Not for just three of us and the animals. And in light of... _ recent circumstances _ , this would help offset some of the costs of living here. In fact, that was why I invited Coran over this afternoon, to see if that would be something we’d be allowed to do, seeing as this is still legally his property.”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea!” Coran said with a blinding grin. “You never know what sort of interesting folks you’re going to meet, after all!”

“What do you two say?” Allura asked.

Again, Keith and Pidge exchanged looks. The idea was, in Keith’s opinion, as uncomfortable as sitting on a cactus in the middle of summer, but what choice did they have? The coven had disavowed them, and Allura owed them nearly two million dollars. They were lucky the coven hadn’t completely drained their accounts to start the repayment of Allura’s debts. Keith shuddered to think about how much rent was for their house. And then there were the utilities…

“Sure,” Pidge said, though she didn’t look terribly pleased.

Ketih sighed. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

* * *

Despite how much it pained him, Keith was awake at the crack of dawn the next morning, thankful that all the unsold lotions and soaps from the last farmers’ market he had worked had made it into a box in the minivan, and weren’t stuck on their wayward moving truck. He dressed quickly, tiptoeing around the room to try to avoid waking up Pidge, who had camped out in his room again last night. He shouldered his backpack after dumping out his school supplies and grabbed the box of goods, heading downstairs and dragging one of the folding lawn chairs to the living room’s bay window to wait for Coran.

A solid twenty-five minutes passed, sitting in the glow of the barely-risen sun. He closed his eyes, and had begun to doze off, when his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of something rattling up the road. He opened his eyes, expecting to see Coran’s ancient station wagon, but instead, some monstrosity of a vehicle rolled up and turned into their driveway.

If he had to figure out exactly what it was that had just pulled up in front of the house, Keith would have said it looked like some shitty lovechild of a camper and the white vans that people warned their kids about. It was a giant, boxy monster that somehow balanced a camper’s shell on its van-like, wood-paneled frame, all wobbling along on tires that looked dangerously bald. He hoped against hope that it was some lost tourist using their driveway to turn around, but no, that was Coran behind the wheel. He honked the horn - which, of course, was loud as all get-out - and Keith hurried outside before Coran woke every damn person in the neighborhood and they had to witness his walk of shame to the vehicle.

"Good to see you up so bright and early!” Coran chirped as Keith climbed in. He was, of course, dressed as loudly as usual, this time with a neon green-and-pink shirt that reminded Keith of a watermelon. 

“Where’s your other car?” 

“Oh, I always set up shop out of this baby,” Coran said, patting the dashboard as he backed down the driveway. “Have been for ages now.”

_ Oh great, so this ugly thing is a staple at the farmers’ market _ , Keith thought, trying not to wince. “It’s, ah...awfully early. We might not have much of a crowd…”

“Nonsense! The market’s always busy, especially on days like this.” Coran gestured to the early-morning sun. “The high school crowd especially likes to come out on sunny days like this.”

_Damn_. Keith made a face. He’d really been hoping that absolutely no one he knew would see him in this ugly nightmare-mobile, but fate, it seemed, had decided to give him a big middle finger once again. 

They made it downtown in good time; several streets had already been blocked off, canopies and tents being set up and readied for the market. Coran stopped at a corner where an officer sat watching the preparations from horseback, calling him over. The officer was able to give Coran directions to side streets that would allow him to take his camper-van into the market itself, so he could park and set up shop there. As Coran rolled up his window and started to turn down the side street, Keith glanced back. In his split-second glance, he swore he saw that the officer was not mounted on the horse, but, in fact,  _ was _ the horse; his upper body was human, but where his coat ended, his body gave way to the sturdy legs and hooves of a gleaming chestnut stallion. 

They rumbled about halfway down the street, before Coran executed a nine-point turn to back the camper-van into a space between two collapsible canopies. As they both climbed out of the van, the neighbor on Coran’s side approached. She was a tall young lady, maybe a year or two older than Keith, with brown skin and thick black hair swept into a long braid. A beautiful turquoise-and-gold necklace hung at her neck.

“Mister Coran! There you are!” she said. “I was worried you would not make it. The market opens soon.”

“Had to make a stop off of my usual route this morning,” Coran said, shuffling Keith forward. “But I’ve brought a new craftsman along to join us today! His name is Keith; he and his family just moved in to one of my properties, the one off of the Sound.”

“Hello, Keith,” she greeted. “My name is Shay.” 

“Ah, you two will be friends in no time!” Coran said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He stepped away, opening the door to the back part of the camper-van and disappearing inside. Keith squinted at Shay uncertainly; he swore she was glimmering at the edges, like a mirage. If she noticed Keith’s expression, however, it didn’t phase her, for all she did was extend her hand to him. “Lovely to meet you.”

Keith nodded, taking Shay’s hand. A jolt went through him as he did, and, in a blink, the young woman was gone. Instead, Keith’s hand was swallowed up by a large one, and he was staring at the navel of what appeared to be a ten-foot-tall version of Shay. She gasped, pulling her hand away and dropping to a knee, both hands clasped over her heart.

“My prince!”

“Shhh!” Keith shushed her frantically, looking over his shoulder. Coran emerged from the van, balancing a box full of candles and whistling cheerfully. If he noticed that Shay had grown an extra five feet or so, however, he made no mention of it. All he did was smile cheerfully.

“You really should have a look at Shay’s booth when you get a chance. I’ve never seen someone who has a way with turquoise the way she does.” He set the box down, then looked back up to Keith. “I don’t suppose you’d mind bringing the tables out from the camper, would you? I’ve brought an extra one along for you, so there should be three of them.”

“Yeah...sure…” Keith said, hesitantly stepping away from Coran and Shay. Now that he’d accidentally blown through Shay’s glamour, he could smell it - the sharp tang of magic. And it was only getting stronger, meaning that Shay was not the only inhuman creature present.

He darted inside the camper-van, mind spinning. The police officer at the barricade...Keith was starting to think his eyes hadn’t been tricking him after all. He glanced out the nearest window in the camper, which pointed him right at Coran’s other neighbor, another young lady, this one with a sheet of blonde hair that fell to her waist - but, like Shay, she glimmered at the edges.

She was glamoured, too.

Keith squinted, focusing on her. He’d been taught how to strip glamours, first by his mother, then by Allura. He’d always likened it to an onion, with layers to work through before getting to the core. And so, like peeling an onion, he worked to peel away the layers of glamour surrounding the girl. As he did, her humanity disappeared bit by bit; her blonde hair turned stark white, her skin darkened to a mottled blue color, and a pair of iridescent wings sprouted from her back. She turned her head, meeting his gaze from outside of the camper, and smiled at him with a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth. 

A fairy.

Keith swore, backing away from the window and diverting his attention elsewhere. Two mounted police officers trotted by, and this time, Keith didn’t even have to try hard to strip their glamours. It flickered out as they walked past, revealing that they, too, had the strong chests and legs of horses, one a palomino and the other a bay. Like the police officer at the end of the road, they were centaurs.

_ This isn’t a farmer’s market, _ he realized.  _ This is a shadow market. _

“Keith? Did you find the tables?” Coran called from outside.

“Um..yeah, yeah, I’ve got them, I’m coming!” Keith grabbed all three tables, and, gritting his teeth, dragged them outside all at once, thankful that being half-Fae was good for something, at least. Shay had left their stall and retreated back to her own; pushing through what was left of the glamour, Keith could see her tent was now double its previous size, and Shay sat inside, perched in a chair that probably could have held Keith, Pidge, Allura, and Coran, with plenty of wiggle room. Coran spotted Keith dragging the tables out of the tent and hurried forward.

“Whoa now! I appreciate your enthusiasm, but don’t hurt yourself!” he said, taking one of the tables and carrying it towards Shay’s tent. The market came alive slowly as Keith and Coran worked to set up their respective tables; both humans and Seelie Fae wandered about, and judging by the lack of freaking out from the humans, they were either Sighted humans who knew they were in the middle of a shadow market, or, like Coran, they couldn’t see through the glamours of the Fae. Keith spotted a few of the teachers he’d seen at school yesterday milling about, as well as one or two of Morgan’s friends - who stopped by to say hi, and one of them, Kai, even bought a bar of desert cactus soap off of Keith. He spotted June Richardson passing through, flanked by two girls who shared her fashion sense - and, judging by the scowls they gave him as they passed, her opinion on Keith. At one point, a small group of elf-looking Fae wandered past his and Coran’s stall, gawking at him with wide eyes and mouthing “my prince,” much to Keith’s chagrin. Fortunately, Coran had been in the middle of an animated conversation with a faun, and didn’t notice.

About midmorning, Keith was manning the stall single-handedly, so that Coran could go peruse the rest of the market. The stall had hit a lull, so Keith had broken out his tarot deck, and was idly shuffling it as he watched the crowd drift by, still both human and Fae. A gust of wind blew up, taking a few of Keith’s cards with it. Cursing, he clambered out of his chair, kneeling on the asphalt to pick up his fallen cards. Just as he’d gathered up the last of the cards, a shadow fell across the booth, across him, prompting him to look up.

A man, maybe a few years older than Keith, stood on the other side of the table, watching him with a cool, detached interest. Keith swallowed hard; the man was strikingly attractive; tall, with a lean, athletic figure and sun-kissed skin. His white-blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and he’d casually shoved a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses up on top of his head. Everything about him looked expensive, in fact - and maybe a little pretentious, Keith realized, taking in the man’s tight-fitting Gucci jeans, the silken lavender scarf draped around his neck, and the very large Starbucks cup in his hand. That didn’t stop Keith’s gay little heart from skipping a beat, of course, but...there was also something about the man that left an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was his dark purple-blue eyes, the way their haughty gaze edged on being cruel.

“Can I help you?” Keith asked warily, getting to his feet.

“You’re the owner of this stall, yes?” the man drawled.

“One of them, yes,” Keith said, sweeping an arm over his mostly-depleted supply of bathing and body care supplies. “Handmade soaps and lotions, courtesy of my plants. There’s not much left, but I do have some pretty nice stuff made from my desert plants.”

The man’s eyes scanned Keith’s wares, before coming back to him - or, more specifically, to the deck of tarot cards in his other hand. He smirked.

“Looks as though bathing essentials aren’t the only things you deal in.”

Keith sighed. “If you’re looking to lecture me on the evils of reading tarot, or dabbling in the occult, or anything like that, kindly walk on. I’ve already had one Bible-thumper through today.”

“On the contrary.” The man leaned in, placing his hands on the table and resting the weight of his upper body on his arms. “I’d like to have my fortune read.”

Keith relaxed slightly. There was something about the man that prevented him from lowering his guard completely, but, at the very least, he didn’t have another Jehovah June on his hands. And of all the divination arts, tarot-reading was definitely his strongest, where he had the most confidence. 

“All right,” Keith said, sitting back down in his chair. “It’s five dollars for a three-card spread, ten for a five-card spread. Your choice of Major or Minor Arcana.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “And if I want the whole deck?”

“There’s a five dollar upcharge for use of the whole deck.”

The man placed a crisp twenty on the table in front of Keith. “Keep the change.”

Keith nodded, pocketing the money before the man changed his mind. “Seventy-eight card dark roast it is, then. Might I get your name, sir?”

“No names. Just get on with it.”

Keith pressed his lips together, trying to avoid calling the man a dickhead right there at the table. Instead, he nodded, shuffling the deck, then carefully spreading the cards in an arc across the table in front of him.

“Choose five,” Keith instructed, “but do not choose quickly, or at random. Take your time. Let the cards call you.”

The man skimmed his long fingers over the cards, plucking one, two, three of them slowly. He ran his fingers over the arc another time, then chose four and five in quick succession. Keith took his cards, cleared the rest of the deck away, and arranged the chosen cards in the traditional five card setup, fingers lingering on the card in the center of the formation.

“This card represents your present - where you are right now, physically, mentally, and emotionally.” He turned the card over. “The Five of Wands. There is conflict and tension in your life, disagreement between yourself and another.” He moved to the left. “This card represents your past.” A pause, and he turned it over. “Strength, but it’s inverted. You have struggled with self-doubt or a lack of self-discipline in your past.” Keith was intimately familiar with that card; it came up every single time he did a reading on himself. He felt a little for the man at his booth.

“I’d prefer we not dwell on that,” the man said.

“Then let’s move on to your future.” Keith moved all the way to the right, turning over that card. “The King of Pentacles. Your future looks bright; security, abundance, control, and power will be yours.”

The man brightened. “Now we’re talking.”

“But before we celebrate, let’s look at the reasons that have brought you to your present situation.” Keith moved his hand down to the card at the bottom of the array, turning it over. “The Knight of Pentacles - again, inverted. You’ve felt stuck, bored with where you are, which has led you to your present strife. Now…” Keith moved to the last card, all the way at the top of the array. “Your potential. Where will things go, should you stay on your path?” He flipped it. “Ah. The Chariot. Again, there is a future of control, domination, and victory before you. Whatever it is you are seeking to do, you’re likely to succeed at it, should you stay on your chosen path.”

“Well now…” The man smiled, watching in an almost predatory fashion as Keith scooped his cards back up. “I rather like the sound of all that. Sure you’re not just trying to flatter me?”

“Technically, you picked the cards, not me,” Keith replied. “I only interpret.”

“I see. I do hope those promises you’ve made me hold up. I’d hate to think those pretty lips are capable of lies.”

Keith stood up abruptly, just a touch skeeved out by the man. “All that my cards can do is predict the future. The rest is up to you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The man reached into the pocket of his blazer, bringing out a black card between two of his long fingers. With a graceful flick of his hands, he offered the card to Keith, who took it hesitantly.

“What’s this?”

“My card.” The man grinned, and Keith’s stomach clenched at the sharp, feral edge of it. “You should call me sometime.”

“Um...okay?”

“Good boy.” The man reached out and lightly patted Keith’s cheek. “Bye for now.”

Before Keith could say anything, or smack the man’s hand away, he melted back into the crowd, leaving Keith standing there, mouth agape and card in hand.

The card…

He looked down at it. It was a heavy, matte black cardstock, with the initials  _ L.S.D. _ inscribed in shining silver letters. Underneath the initials, there was an address, somewhere in downtown Seattle. The only other thing on the card was a purple crown on the back. Not a phone number or anything else to be found that could be used to identify the man who just came through. 

He spotted Coran approaching the booth and quickly stuffed the card into the pocket of his jeans. The older man dropped off a few parcels in his camper-van, and then, with an indulgent smile, he turned Keith loose to wander the market on his own.

There were a few human vendors at the market, but, as Keith discovered, the majority of them were Seelie Fae. They seemed to have everything, from food to makeup, jewelry to wooden carvings; the whole place was a riot of colors, smells, and sounds.

And everyone, it seemed, knew Keith.

He could feel eyes on him at all times; out of the corners of his eyes, he could see fae of all kinds pointing at him, whispering to each other with wide eyes. Fingers would ghost over his shoulders as his back was turned, and voices would whisper “my prince” in his ear.

Despite the discomfort of people’s stares and whispers, Keith did discover one advantage to being a Fae prince at the shadow market: None of the vendors would let him pay for a damn thing. The first vendor he’d approached, a moss-and-bark colored wood sprite selling homemade lotions, had laughed when he’d produced the twenty-dollar bill he’d had in his pocket in an attempt to pay for the two bottles of lemon verbena lotion he’d picked out. 

“Oh sweet summer child,” the sprite chuckled, ruffling Keith’s hair with twiglike fingers. “I can’t take money from Kolivan’s grandson.”

He had tried to pay at the next two stalls he’d visited, and was met with much the same thing. After the third stall, he decided to just accept his good fortune and enjoy his fae heritage working to his advantage for a change.

He had just finished up at a stall run by a very friendly nymph when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His sensitive nose picked up a new smell, something like wet dog mixed with the bitter tang of fear. He set off from the booth, letting his sense of smell guide him towards an alley tucked between two shops. As he reached the alley, he could hear voice coming from its shadows, arguing loudly with each other. 

“Come on, Tsuyoshi. Did you really think you could run from us forever?”

“L-Look guys, I  _ really _ don’t want any trouble…”

“Well, that’s just too bad, because you’ve got it.”

“I mean, maybe I’m dumb, but this is a free country, right? So doesn’t that mean I should be able to, you know, leave a pack if I don’t think it’s working out?”

Keith’s ears perked up at the word “pack,” and he leaned around the corner, peering into the alley. There were three people - two male, one female - gathered at the back of the alley. They were dressed like they’d clawed their way out of a bar fight at a Hell’s Angel rally, and there was a wild edge in their appearance that matched the feral scent that filled Keith’s nostrils. Werewolves.

The guy they had gathered around, however, looked very different, despite the fact that he shared their scent. He was a tall, stocky, nervous-looking teenager whose back was pressed against the wall where the alley dead-ended. His clothes looked as though they’d seen better days, but they were still pretty normal-looking. He ran a hand through his thick black hair and tried - but failed - to work up a charming grin.

“You participated in the Rite of Selene,” one of the male werewolves growled, poking a dirty finger into the boy’s chest. “That makes you pack. You abandon the pack, you dishonor the pack.”

“I’m really not trying to dishonor the pack,” the boy insisted. “Really, I’m not. I just...I don’t think our philosophies mesh, you know…”

The other male werewolf lashed out, closing his hand around the boy’s throat, cutting him off. “You think you’re so smart, with all your fancy book-learning,” he ground out, muscles straining as he actually lifted the young man off the ground. “You think you’re too good for us, don’t us?” He hawked a loogie, spitting a nasty glob of spit on the ground where the boy’s feet had been. “Little bitch.”

The boy made a choked sound, face turning red from a lack of oxygen. Keith dropped the bags he’d been holding, stomping into the alley.

“Put him down.”

The three werewolves rounded on him, dropping the boy to the ground, where he gasped and massaged his throat. The werewolf that had been holding him narrowed his eyes on Keith. 

“This is pack business, whelp,” he spat. “Doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re on Seelie territory. You’re in the proximity of humans. And you’re at a shadow market, where, by orders of the Seelie King, there is to be no violence or bloodshed against anyone, human, fae, or otherwise.” Keith pushed his hair back, revealing the pointed tips of his ears to the three werewolves. “I think it concerns me.”

The lady stepped forward, cracking her knuckles. She might have been smaller than the two males, but Keith knew better than to underestimate her - especially because, typically speaking, female werewolves were a hell of a lot more aggressive than male ones.

“So you want to play knight, little fairy-boy?” she growled, baring sharp, yellowed teeth. “Come on, then, what are you waiting for?”

Keith grabbed for his knife, which he’d sheathed at the small of his back and hidden under the hem of his tee shirt. As soon as the hilt hit his palm, the blade glowed; wind gusted up, and, in a flash of white light, the knife transformed into a two-handed sword, the pommel of it glowing with the crest of the Royal Fae Family. His grandfather’s crest. All three of the werewolves gasped, instantly dropping to their knees. The woman and one of the men swept their hair aside, baring their necks to Keith; the other male actually went so far as to roll onto his back and present his neck and belly, a gesture of total submission.

“Your Highness!” the woman gasped.

“A prince of the Seelie Court…” the kneeling male whispered reverently.

Keeping the point of his sword trained on the trio of werewolves, Keith approached, then sidestepped them, moving to stand in front of the younger werewolf they’d been tormenting, who’d managed to crawl away a few feet.

“This lycanthrope is under my protection from this day forward,” he said, channeling every ounce of his Fae heritage to make himself sound as commanding and imperious as his grandfather, or any one of his generals. “He is to be released from the bonds of the Rite of Selene.”

“O-Of course,” the woman said. 

“And if I catch any of you so much as looking at him cross-eyed, I will strike you down where you stand in the name of Kolivan, King of the Seelie Court.” He narrowed his eyes at them. “Got it?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Deepest apologies, Your Highness.”

“We won’t be troubling you any more, Your Highness.”

“Good.” Keith pointed to the mouth of the alley with his sword.” Now  _ get _ .”

All three werewolves scrambled to their feet and made a run for it; Keith was pretty sure they all would have had their tails tucked between their legs if they’d been physically able. With them gone, his sword returned to its form, and he sheathed it back at his waist, turning to the young man he had been protecting.”

“ H-Holy _ shit _ ,” the young man breathed.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Keith said.

“No, don’t be sorry! I would have been dog chow if you hadn’t stepped in! I…” He trailed off, squinting at Keith. “Hey, um, not to be rude, but...what happened to your hair? And your eyes?”

“Huh?” Keith pulled out his knife, tilting it to try to catch a glimpse of his reflection. Instead of its usual black, the mop of hair that fell in his face was now white as snow. His eyes were still faintly glowing, but that, at least, seemed to be settling down enough so as not to be completely creepy. He sighed, sheathing his knife again. “Oh. That. That’s because I activated my knife.”

The boy blinked at him, baffled.

“I made it turn into a sword. It takes magic to do that. Fae magic.” He gestured up to his hair. “This tends to happen when I do Fae magic.”

“But...those guys said you were a Fae prince.” The boy got to his feet slowly. “Why would using your magic do that to you?”

“Because I’m only a halfling. I haven’t Chosen yet.” Keith sighed. “I’m going to have to dye this back now.”

The boy nodded. “Well, either way...thanks for jumping in and helping out. I owe you pretty big, Your Highness.”

“Ugh.” Keith made a face; if one more person called him Your Highness, he would actually scream. “Keith. Please, for the love of Hecate, call me Keith.”

“Keith.” The boy nodded, offering his hand. “Tsuyoshi Garrett. But, um, I usually go by Hunk. Long story.”

They shook hands, then, Hunk crossed the alley, back to where he’d been cornered. He picked up a battered green backpack that looked to be stuffed full, sighing as he brushed dirt off of it. After a moment, he shoulders it, offering Keith a tired smile. 

“On to the next pack, I guess. Maybe they’ll be a little less...traditional.”

“Where’s the next pack?” Keith asked, looking around as if he expected them to materialize out of thin air.

Hunk shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve heard rumors of there being a few packs from eastern Washington that move through around this time of the year, but it’s hard to say.”

“So...where are you going to go until then?”

“Eh, you know. Shelters. Couches of friends. The occasional doorway. Sometimes, I just camp out in the woods, if the weather is really nice.”

Hunk’s response hit Keith like a punch to the gut. While he’d never been homeless like Hunk was, he knew a lot about shuffling from place to place, about all the uncertainty that came with it. He remembered the years of being shuffled from foster home to foster home, his entire life fitting into a suitcase and a backpack, and the years of lying awake at night, wondering if he was going to be sleeping in the same bed again the next night. 

“My foster mom’s taking in boarders. You could live with us.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Hunk looked up at him with wide, hopeful brown eyes before shaking his head.

“No, I couldn’t impose…”

“Come on, it’s worth talking to her, at least. It’s better than sleeping on a doorstep.”

Hunk squirmed slightly. “I really couldn’t…”

“Dude, we have this giant-ass house for three people. Like, it’s way beyond the three of us. There’s like, seventeen bedrooms, and I’m pretty sure the kitchen has two ovens…”

Hunk perked up. “Wait...the kitchen has two ovens?”

“Pretty sure it does, yeah.”

“Well…” Hunk twisted the fraying hem of his shirt in his hands, “I mean, you did say it was worth asking - that is, if you don’t mind…”

“Yeah, it’s definitely worth asking,” Keith said, nodding. “Come on, I’m here with our landlord. He can give us a ride back to the house.”

Keith started back towards the market, but stopped short. Coran. Coran was going to notice that his hair had gone from black to white, and he was probably going to have a lot of questions about it. He turned to Hunk with a somewhat sheepish grin.

“First, though...I’m going to need a hat.”

* * *

It was about half-past three when Keith heard the front door open and shut again, announcing that Allura and Pidge were home. He had been fiddling around with a new set of runes he’d picked up at the farmer’s market. Hunk, meanwhile, had found out that the kitchen did, in fact, have two ovens, and, after a quick run to the store with Coran, had come home with a few bags of baking essentials, whipped a wrinkly apron out of his backpack, and now had both ovens on at full blast, with a loaf of bread baking in one and a batch of cookies in the other.

From the front hall, Allura made a noise of despair. A moment later, Pidge stuck her head in the kitchen with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re in trouble!” she taunted in a singsong voice. No sooner had she said that than Allura swept into the kitchen, looking like she was trying her hardest not to yell. With one final evil grin, Pidge disappeared. Keith moved to give her a very rude hand gesture, but Allura stopped in front of the table and he stood down.

“Keith,” Allura began, voice strained, “I know that old habits die hard, but...we really need to be watching our money, and that means that - ”

“I know,” Keith interrupted, “but don’t worry. All of it was free. Coran’s farmer’s market is a shadow market. And, um...everyone knows me there, apparently.”

There was a long pause, and Keith was pretty sure that Allura’s eye was twitching because she was just barely resisting the urge to strangle him. He really hoped that word of what he did in the alley, where he’d defended Hunk, didn’t get around, because that, he was pretty sure, would have blown a huge hole in their cover.

Before she could say or do anything, however, a timer dinged, and Hunk opened one of the oven doors, pulling out a tray of cookies. Allura turned to look at him, then jumped back, palms full of crackling white light. “Who are you?”

“Whoa, Allura, calm down,” Keith said, standing up, pulling the hat he’d still been wearing off of his head. “This is Hunk. He’s a friend - and, possibly, a tenant.”

Hunk offered a winning smile. Allura stared at him, then looked at Keith, and then back to Hunk for an uncomfortably long moment, before finally turning back to Keith.

“Can we talk for a moment?”

Keith followed Allura around the corner, leaning against the wall by the kitchen door. Allura sighed, running her hands through her hair before she turned to face Keith.

“What happened at the market? Who is he?” Her eyes landed on Keith, studied him for a moment, and then she wrinkled her nose. “What happened to your hair?”

“Long story,” Keith said. “Short version is that I sort of rescued Hunk from a bunch of pushy asshole werewolves, and claimed him under my protection. He’s homeless, Allura. He needs a place to live.”

“Keith…”

“You said you wanted tenants, so we don’t have to worry about the rent as much. Hunk needs a place to live. You said it yourself, what are we going to do with all this space?”

“I know what I said, Keith, but...he’s still a kid. He’s no older than you - ”

“Yeah, he told me he was seventeen.”

“ - Which is exactly my point. He’s still in high school, Keith. He’s not going to be able to work enough to pay rent, and even if he could, he should be concentrating on his studies.”

“Allura…”

“Keith, with the coven having cut us off, we can’t afford the financial strain.” Allura put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, her face sympathetic. “We can try to help him find a place, but we can’t take the additional financial burden of having him here. I’m so sorry…”

Someone cleared their throat from behind Keith. Turning, he found Hunk standing at the kitchen door, scuffing his shoes and holding a plate of freshly-baked cookies like a peace offering.

“So, I overheard you guys talking - I didn’t mean to, but, you know, werewolf hearing,” he said. “I know I’m young, but I can handle it. I, um, I actually graduated already. Last year. I’m doing the whole culinary school thing; that’s actually what I came over here for. And I do have a job! I work for a bakery in Seattle! And I’ve got all the right paperwork, and I’ve got a student visa and a work visa...in fact, I’m working on getting my citizenship!” He frowned slightly. “Of course, you would think that I’d already be an American citizen, being born in  _ American Samoa _ , which is an  _ American territory _ , but somehow, I’m not.” He shrugged. “Beats me. Anyways, my point is, I know I’m still just a kid, but I can pull my weight. I promise.”

Allura sighed. “I just don’t know…”

Keith opened his mouth to protest, but Hunk cut him off. “I totally get it. I’ll respect whatever decision you make, Ms. Lyon.” He looked down at his plate of cookies, then held them up. “Not to make it seem like a bribe, but...would you like a cookie? They’re fresh from the oven.”

Allura smiled, reaching for a cookie. “Thank you, Hunk. I have to say, they do smell wonderful.”

She broke off a chunk of cookie with her fingers, popping it into her mouth. As soon as she did, her eyes went wide, and she gave a tiny gasp. There was a long moment where she said nothing, and Keith and Hunk stared at her expectantly, wondering what was going on in her head. Finally, she swallowed and turned to Hunk, looking, Keith would say, a little starstruck.

“When can you move in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how excited I was to finally bring in Hunk. He's such a cinnamon roll. I love all of the paladins, but I identify most strongly with Hunk.
> 
> Shout-out to [PoeFaraday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeFaraday/pseuds/PoeFaraday) for advice on tarot spreads and readings, because I know very, very little about the subject. You guys should go give this cool dude some love, he's a spectacular writer! 
> 
> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr!](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	5. The Fox With Nine Tails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takashi Shirogane is pretty sure he has the worst luck in the world...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently 5,000+ -word chapters are a thing I do now. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's left kudos, commented, or messaged/inboxed me on Tumblr to show their love for this story!

“Welcome to the United States!”

Takashi Shirogane - Shiro, to his close friends - merely nodded and worked up what he hoped was a polite smile for the overenthusiastic customs agent. He’d been up for at least three days straight now, and had spent the past fifteen hours crammed into a tightly-packed flight with a middle-aged businessman snoring in his ear. The flight had been uncomfortable, made even more uncomfortable by the fact that not only was he in a long-sleeved jacket, but he had to keep the hood of it up for the entire flight - and, because the long sleeved jacket wasn’t enough, he also wore a glove on his right hand.

It wasn’t any better in the airport as he shuffled his way through customs; the people from the flight, as well as everyone else who was off-boarding from an international flight, were pressing in close to him, and his backpack was so heavy it threatened to tip him over backwards.

As he walked, he patted his non-gloved hand against the pocket of his pants, slipping his hand in, relieved when his fingers brushed against the piece of paper that was currently his only link to sanity.

He was going to punch his roommate when he got back to Sapporo.

**_Yes, good plan! Punch roommate! Eat his liver!_ **

Shiro sighed. It wasn’t enough that he was hot, sweaty, jetlagged, and his legs were cramping from hours of having his knees pressed against the back of the seat in front of him. Now, a certain unwelcome presence had decided to make itself known.

Kuron had been quiet for the majority of the flight. After the initial excitement of takeoff had worn off, the fox spirit had whined for nearly an hour about how bored he was before he finally stopped. Shiro had hoped he would sleep - that is, if intangible fox-demon-spirits slept - but instead, something happened to have caught Kuron’s eyes, and Shiro found himself forced to read through the ubiquitous SkyMall magazine, while Kuron babled inside his head about the things he found in the catalogue. But one read-through wasn’t enough. No, they probably read through the magazine at least fifteen times before Kuron got bored and started flipping through the movie channels instead. His reaction to the in-flight movies had been another experience in and of itself, but, at the very least, it meant that, for the first time in nearly a week, Kuron wasn’t as loud and obnoxious as he had been - or, in fact, as he was now.

“No,” Shiro murmured, quietly but firmly.

**_He got us into this mess! He deserves it!_ **

“We’re not eating his liver.” Shiro glanced around nervously, hoping no one overheard him. “Now shush. People are going to start looking at me like I’m crazy.”

**_You are crazy!_ **

“I’m not crazy.”

**_If you were sane, we wouldn’t be in this mess!_ **

Shiro sighed, opting to ignore the voice and instead heading for the rental car desk, forcing a smile as the agent butchered his name and squinted over his driver’s license for what felt like an eternity, hemming and hawing as he shifted from foot to foot.

**_Can we eat_ ** **her** **_liver?_ **

Shiro scrubbed a hand over his face. _What is with you and eating people’s livers?_

**_She’s making us wait!_ **

Between the sloth-like pace of the rental agent and Kuron screaming like a deranged, murderous toddler in his head, it took every ounce of control and sanity Shiro had left to keep from spontaneously growing tails in the middle of the airport - but that control was waning, along with his patience. Finally, at long last, the rental agent seemed satisfied with his information, and handed him back his driver’s license, as well as the keys to a car. With a quick thank-you, he hurried out to the rental car lot, scrambling to find the car.

Two hours. He was so close now, had closed the distance across an ocean and was so close to getting back the one thing that would finally bring him some measure of peace. The drive, he knew, was both risky and the absolute last thing he needed in his jet-lagged, sleep-deprived state, but he couldn’t stop now. And so, upon finding his rental car in the lot, he threw his backpack into the back seat, climbed into the driver’s seat, and peeled out of Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, heart pounding as he tore ass through downtown Phoenix, heading out of the city.

_So close...so close…_

But there was two hours of road between him and his final destination. Eventually, the crowded roads of Phoenix gave way to sparsely-populated highways, surrounded by scrubby desert bushes and the occasional small town. Several times on the drive, Shiro found himself faced with the insatiable urge to put his window down and stick his head out - which he gave into the second time, but only that one time after he nearly got decapitated by a truck that passed too close for comfort. And so he continued to drive, hunched over the steering wheel and white-knuckled, trying to keep his fraying nerves together enough to get him to Tucson in one piece.

He eventually found himself rolling up to a large, concrete apartment building in Tucson. He parked across the street, stopping and staring, pulling that piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothing it with careful reverence. He checked the address on the paper - written in his roommate’s terrible chicken-scratch handwriting - against the address he’d put into the car’s GPS, and then checked the number on the building. They all matched. He was in the right place.

Or, at least, he hoped he was.

He killed the engine and climbed out of the car, making sure his sleeves were pulled down all the way and his hood was up, despite the boiling temperatures. Acting as casual as he possibly could with his nerves completely fried, Shiro strolled towards the door to the building. The closer he got, the more he realised they appeared to be passcode-protected, which posed a bit of a challenge. Just as he reached the doors, a woman exited; she was so engrossed with whatever was on her phone’s screen, she didn’t even bother to look at Shiro, to question why he was there. She simply held the door open to let him into the building.

**_Humans are stupid creatures._ **

Shiro raised an eyebrow as he prowled through the lobby, looking for the elevators. _Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think it’s very smart to insult humans when you rely on one in order to have a physical form._

**_Well, you’re stupid, too!_ ** Kuron thundered. **_We wouldn’t be in this mess if you weren’t so stupid!_ **

Shiro sighed. Kuron had not stopped berating him about losing the _hoshi no tama_ for literally the past week, and as the days went on and Shiro struggled harder and harder to keep his powers under control, the spirit sharing his headspace only got worse.

The elevator was on the far end of the lobby; he strode up and pressed the button, impatiently drumming the fingers of his left hand against his thigh and silently begging the elevator to come faster.

_I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting my roommate to sell that damn thing! I only took it off for five minutes!_

**_Well why did you take it off in the first place?!_ **

The elevator arrived then, and Shiro boarded it, opting to ignore Kuron. They were almost there; this would be a quick retrieval, provided this “Keith Kogane” hadn’t become too attached to Shiro’s _hoshi no tama_. He glanced down at his right hand, covered all the way to the tips of his fingers to keep people from seeing what lay beneath. If he met resistance from this Keith, hopefully, one flash of the twisted, mangled flesh and three-inch talons he’d carefully concealed would be enough to convince the human to hang over what was rightfully Shiro’s without much of a fuss.

The elevator stopped on the seventh floor with a ding, doors sliding open. As soon as they did, however, Shiro staggered back as if he’d been punched in the chest, and Kuron gave an ear-piercing yowl inside his head.

Something evil had been there.

It took a moment to recover, but finally, Shiro was able to cautiously step out of the elevator, holding his breath. Whatever had come through, the stench of it, the tang of ancient, evil magic, still hung heavy in the air - so heavy that it couldn’t possibly be gone yet.

Apartment 707. He needed to find 707, find Keith, and get the hell out of the building before whatever was hanging around decided to make a meal of him. He strode down the hallway, head on swivel, counting the apartments as he went. 713...711…709…

He drew up short at 707. Two handymen loitered in the open doorway; one of them said something, and the other laughed in response. The evil smell was not coming from either of them, and somehow, they did not seem to notice that whatever it was, it was at its strongest here.

“Um...excuse me?” he began. Both workers stopped talking, turning to look at him. “I’m, um...is this the Kogane residence?”

The men exchanged confused looks.

“I’m looking for Keith Kogane. Does he live here?”

“No one lives here anymore,” the first handyman said, gesturing to the open door. “See for yourself.”

Shiro stepped forward. Looking at it head-on, he realized the door wasn’t open, it was missing entirely. The apartment beyond was bare, save for one lonely-looking Christmas cactus sitting by the door. Shiro’s shoulders slumped as both he and Kuron came to the same conclusion: They now had no idea where his _hoshi no tama_ was.

“What happened to the family that lived here?” he asked, just barely swallowing down the urge to scream.

The first handyman shrugged. “Dunno. They were here on Monday, then a moving truck came for them on Tuesday.”

“I heard there was a pretty nasty incident last week,” the second handyman chimed in. “Angry ex-boyfriend or something. Blasted the door right off the hinges with a damn shotgun.”

“Yeah, and the asshole fled before the cops could come, so the building has to cover the damages.”

“Hey, if you find the family, take this to them.” The second handyman grabbed the Christmas cactus, pressing it into Shiro’s hands. “They must have missed it.”

The first handyman checked his watch. “And it’s break time. Come on, I want to go check out that new Chinese place around the corner…”

Both men disappeared, leaving Shiro standing there, holding a slightly droopy Christmas cactus and staring into an emptied apartment with the realization that he was now back to the drawing board. He had no idea where Keith Kogane was - and no Keith meant no _hoshi no tama_ , which meant no control over his powers.

"Could you move?”

Shiro turned at the sound of a teenager’s bored, disdainful voice. Behind him stood a young man, dressed like he’d walked out of a Tommy Hilfiger catalogue, raised one bleach-blonde eyebrow at him imperiously.

“Sorry, um…” Here was a possibility of getting answers, and Shiro was desperate enough to take it, even if the kid was looking at him like he was dog shit on the kid’s shiny loafers. “I’m looking for Keith Kogane. Do you happen to know where I might find him, or his family?”

The effect his question had was instantaneous. The boy’s lips curled into a sneer, his nose wrinkled, and he made a noise of disgust.

“What do you want with that weirdo?”

Shiro froze, not really expecting the kid’s response. “Uhhh...he’s a friend of mine, and - ”

The boy’s gaze traveled up and down Shiro, taking in the travel-creased sweatpants, the hoodie drawn up in an attempt to hide the fact that he had almost no control over his fox form, the glove on just his right hand, and his jet-lagged expression. Shiro just barely resisted the urge to cross his arms, feeling dressed-down by the boy’s bright blue gaze. “Of course you’re a friend of his. Why am I not surprised?”

Before Shiro could formulate a response - because even though he was severely jet-lagged, he was still pretty certain he had just been insulted - the boy scoffed and whipped out his phone, all interest in Shiro lost.

“Heard the freak moved to Seattle,” he said, “something about his grandfather owning land up there or something. I don’t know, and I really don’t care. Good fucking riddance to him.”

“Oh. Um. Right.” Shiro cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, thank you.”

“Whatever.” The boy shoved past him, slinking off down the hall and leaving Shiro with the droopy Christmas cactus, feeling more than a little insulted.

**_We should eat his liver,_ ** Kuron remarked.

“What is it with you and eating people’s livers?” Shiro headed for the elevator, pressing the button to call it back.

**_Now what?_ **

The elevator door dinged open, and Shiro stepped inside, one thought clear in mind.

“We’re going to Seattle.”

* * *

 

**_Hopeless._ **

Shiro hated to agree with Kuron, but at that moment, he couldn’t help but agree with the fox-spirit-demon, much as he was loathe to. It had been three days since he’d left Tucson, driving back to Phoenix in a rush and dropping an unnecessary amount of money on a ticket on the next plane to Washington state, and while he had accomplished his goal and gotten to Seattle, it wasn’t until he’d stepped out of the front doors of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport that he’d realized one very important thing:

He didn’t know _where_ in Seattle Keith Kogane lived.

He was running out of time; his control over his physical form was slipping more and more each day. He was thankful that Seattle was a damn sight cooler than Tucson - he’d had to add a thrift-store trench coat over his hoodie in order to conceal his tails. At first, it had just been one or two tails stubbornly refusing to hide, and he’d been able to stuff them into a pants leg, or hide them under the long hoodie. Now, however, it was all nine of them, and the coat was the only thing that was long enough and large enough to cover them.

But it wasn’t just that he was losing control of his physical form - no, that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was Kuron. As the days dragged on, Kuron had only gotten louder and angrier - but he had also gotten more disjointed, as if he, too, was losing his mind.

**_Stupid. Stupid. Find it. Need it. FIND. NEED._ **

“Yeah, I get it,” Shiro grumbled, pulling his hood further over his face, before rubbing at his forehead. He was seated at a corner table in one of Seattle’s many, many Starbucks, and even though the music was pleasant and, being ten A.M. on a Monday morning, the shop was mostly empty, Shiro had a headache coming on, the kind that couldn’t even be soothed by the venti matcha green tea latte he was nursing in his hands. “I’m trying.”

**_Kogane. Find him. FIND HIM._ **

“I’m _trying_.”

**_Try HARDER. Keith. Find. Find it!_ **

“Look, I am just human here.” At this point, Shiro didn’t even care if people started to stare at him. He’d left self-conscious way the hell behind at this point; he wasn’t sleeping, was barely eating, and so, so tired of looking, of running himself ragged trying to track down one boy in a city of over seven hundred thousand people with a being like Kuron screaming inside his head the entire time. “You’re a servant to a god. How about you stop yelling at me and tell Inari to send me a _fucking sign_ or something, instead of being a pain in my - !”

He stopped short as movement caught his eye. The front door had opened, and a woman had walked into the nearly-empty shop, carrying something under her arm. She spoke with one of the baristas at the counter for a moment, then moved to the community board, tacking up what appeared to be a bright pink flier. She admired her handiwork, then, with a nod, gathered her things and left, leaving Shiro to stare at the board, the bright pink piece of paper like a beacon to his overworked senses.

**_LOOK._ **

Numbly, Shiro obeyed, standing up and staggering across the shop, drawn to the pink flier and its bold black text:

 

ROOMS FOR RENT

Seeking tenants for extra bedrooms in 5-bedroom house in Seattle suburbs

Non-smoking, no pets  
Not pet-allergy friendly (owner has cats)  
Serious inquiries only  
Must have or be willing to submit background check

Contact Allura Lyon for details.

The pull-off tabs on the bottom of the flier all contained the same name, as well as a phone number. Shiro took one, staring dumbly at the pink slip.

_Is this my sign?_

**_CALL. FIND KEITH._ **

He took out his phone, but hesitated. Was this the sign he’d asked for? What if this was just another dead end? He couldn’t afford any more of those; while no hoshi no tama meant no powers, it also meant no ability to maintain a human form, leaving him an unstable mess who was looking more and more vulpine by the day. Eventually, he knew, it would get to a point where he wouldn’t be able to go out in public, he’d look so fox-like...and then what?

**_CALL. TRY._ **

Shiro swallowed hard, fingers curling tightly around his phone.

He really hoped today was his lucky day.

* * *

 

In the end, it had taken him several hours to actually work up the nerve to call Allura Lyon. Kuron had, of course, screeched at him almost non-stop, but Shiro had to work his way past the block of anxiety that formed in his chest every time he picked up the phone to call the number - anxiety at the idea that this was another dead end, that he was never going to find his _hoshi no tama_ and spend the rest of his days stuck as neither fox nor human, but some ungodly combination of the two.

Finally, however, he’d managed to pick up his phone and call the number, and Allura Lyon had been so nice over the phone that he’d almost cried for that sheer fact. He’d managed to hold it together, though, and had gladly accepted her invitation to come and tour the house.

Now, he was cruising down the streets of an island suburb, one eye on the road and the other on his phone’s GPS. His heart was in his throat; if he had any kind of luck left at all, then he could have his _hoshi no tama_ back before the day’s end. After the hell the past two weeks had been, he wasn’t going to take that damn thing off ever again.

He came to the end of a road and found himself at the driveway of a veritable mansion. He was actually a bit sad that his tour was really a ruse, because the mansion was a far cry from his crowded apartment back in Sapporo. Even his grandfather’s house, built on the same lands as the shrine the family maintained, seemed like a matchbox in comparison.

There was a carport, but it had been blocked off by opaque tarp. So instead, Shiro parked his rental car next to the minivan in the driveway and slowly got out, approaching the door. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he rang the doorbell and waiting, fingers drumming a nervous tattoo against his left leg.

The door swung open, and a teenager of uncertain gender eyed him curiously. They were short, not even coming up to Shiro’s armpit, with a mop of brown hair and hazel eyes that blinked owlishly behind a pair of large, silver-rimmed glasses. They wore a thick, brown leather glove on one hand, and a gray pygmy owl was perched on their gloved arm. The owl’s yellow eyes landed on Shiro, and it screeched loudly, rattling his already-frazzled nerves.

“Whoa, Rover, chill.” The teen patted the owl’s head, and it settled, nipping at their fingers in a manner that suggested the owl was some kind of kept pet. The teen gave Shiro a once-over. “Um...are you a friend of Keith’s?”

Shiro’s heart nearly lurched out of his chest. _Keith_. Keith was here - never mind the fact that there could have been hundreds of Keiths in the greater Seattle area; he wanted to believe, had to believe, that this Keith was Keith Kogane. It had to be. It had to be…

“Pidge, you could at least invite him in.”

The woman from the coffee shop, Allura, appeared behind Pidge, sweet-smelling and smiling apologetically, nudging Pidge out of the way in order to open the door wider.

“Terribly sorry. Please, come on in.”

“It’s okay.” He cautiously stepped inside, slipping his shoes off and leaving them by the door out of habit. The house was even more gorgeous on the inside, and so calming that Shiro let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. Allura put an arm around Pidge.

“Mr. Shirogane, this is Pidge Gunderson, my foster daughter,” she introduced. “Pidge, this is Mr. Takashi Shirogane. He’s looking into moving into one of the empty bedrooms.”

“Cool.” Pidge nodded. “Sorry Rover screamed at you. He’s weird about strangers.”

“Come, let me give you a tour of the house.” Allura turned, heading down the foyer and disappearing through a doorway. Pidge thundered up the stairs, leaving Shiro alone in the foyer; he moved to follow Allura, but as he did, his eye caught on a simple necklace sitting, neglected, on the side table next to him. Light glinted off its pearly surface, and Shiro’s mouth and throat went desert-dry.

His _hoshi no tama._

Kuron’s screaming inside his skull was almost deafening. **_TAKE IT TAKE IT WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR TAKE IT!_ **

Looking around to make sure he wasn’t being watched, Shiro reached out, snatching the necklace by the cord and pulling it over his head. The effect was instantaneous; a flood of power surged through Shiro like lightning coursing through his veins, his blood singing with it. Kuron’s victory screeches momentarily drowned out everything, then calmed to a dull roar, the quietest the demon-spirit had been in two weeks. Shiro closed his eyes, willing his human glamour back into place, relieved when he could reach up, lower the hood of his hoodie, and feel only hair. He opened his eyes and cautiously peeled his glove off his right hand, relieved to find that it no longer was demonic, but instead had taken on the appearance of a metal prosthetic.

“Mr. Shirogane? Are you coming?”

Shiro quickly hid the _hoshi no tama_ under the collar of his hoodie and jogged down the hall to catch up with Allura. He’d gotten what he had come for, but he figured he’d stick around for the rest of the tour, so as not to look suspicious. Hopefully, he’d be long gone before Keith realized that the _hoshi no tama_ was gone.

Allura led him into the kitchen, where a dark-skinned teenage boy was kneading a wad of bread dough on the flour-covered counter. He looked up as they entered and smiled.

“Hey Allura,” he greeted, before inclining his head to Shiro. “Who’s our guest?”

“This is Mr. Shirogane. He’s looking at renting one of the rooms upstairs.”

“Cool.” The boy offered Shiro a friendly smile. “I’m Hunk. I’d shake your hand, but mine’s kind of covered in bread dough.”

“That’s fine,” Shiro replied. “Takashi Shirogane. Nice to meet you.”

“From Japan?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah, Hokkaido. Why?”

“My dad was from Kyushu,” Hunk said. “I grew up in American Samoa with my moms, but I went to Japan for a few summers to visit my dad when I was a kid.”

“Hunk is currently renting out the basement,” Allura said. “He’s also taken up the mantle of resident chef, which may be for the best. You don’t want to be around if Keith or Pidge make dinner.”

“I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I _am_ a pretty good cook,” Hunk said, blushing very slightly. “Anyways, just let me know if you ever start feeling homesick. I’ll whip you up something so good, you’ll swear you were back home!”

**_I like him,_ ** Kuron remarked - far more subdued than he had been previously. **_We won’t eat his liver._ **

Shiro merely nodded and thanked Hunk, before allowing Allura to lead him out of the kitchen, continuing the tour. She took him through the dining room, the living room, and then den, then led him upstairs. The first room they came across, the door was open, and Pidge was inside, trying to coax Rover back into his cage. There was another door, propped open, which Shiro saw led to a staircase. Allura leaned into the staircase.

“Keith?” she called. “Keith!”

No response. She leaned back out. “He must be in his greenhouse.” A clock chimed somewhere in the house, and her eyes widened in surprise. “Goodness, is it that late already?”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro apologized, seeing a possible out. “I called you rather late. I should be going…”

“Nonsense! You haven’t even seen your room yet! Now, would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Would you like to stay forever?!” Pidge hollered, sticking her head out of her room with an ear-to-ear grin.

“Oh my goodness, Pidge, don’t scare the poor man!” Allura fussed.

“No, it’s fine. I actually got that reference,” Shiro said with a chuckle. Kuron had taken a shine to the Disney movies on the flight, and he’d liked _Mulan_ so much they’d watched it twice. “And, well...I suppose I could stay for dinner…”

**_No! Why are you getting friendly? Go! Get out!_ **

Shiro ignored Kuron - much easier now that he had his _hoshi no tama_ \- and continued to follow Allura through the second floor, silently lamenting the fact that he wasn’t actually going to move in, because the room Allura was offering him was quite gorgeous - large windows, hardwood floors, and a view to die for.

She led him back downstairs, stopping at a door in the den that led outside - most likely, to the blocked-off carport. Up close, Shiro could see condensation on the windows, which were also largely obscured with what looked like massive plants.

“Last but not least...the greenhouse.”

Shiro swallowed. She’d said upstairs that Keith was in the greenhouse. Would Keith know he’d taken the _hoshi no tama_? Could he see the cord of it sticking up from the collar of Shiro’s hoodie? He opened his mouth to protest, but it was too late; Allura had opened the door and gestured him inside.

Instantly, he was greeted by a blast of hot, humid air that had him peeling off his hoodie against his better instincts. While Allura came in behind him, he slipped his _hoshi no tama_ back over his head and pocketed it, fingers curling tightly around it, hoping she didn’t think to ask what he had in his pocket.

The sound of music, playing through a phone’s speakers, filled the space, which smelled like damp soil and flowers Shiro couldn’t even name. It took him a moment to notice the person he supposed was Keith; his back was to them, and he was currently crouched over several large terra-cotta pots. Shiro noticed that his feet were bare, the soles of them covered with dirt, and his mop of white hair was gathered into a stubby ponytail at the base of his neck.

Allura cleared her throat. “Keith. We have a guest.”

Keith straightened up slightly, then stood, brushing dirt from his knees, before turning to look at them. Shiro felt like he’d been punched in the gut. There was something very ethereal about Keith; it could have been his long, pale limbs, or the white hair, or the almond-shaped, dark purple eyes that took in both Allura and Shiro. He was dressed very casually, in a pair of shorts and a shirt that had been cut to bare a good three inches of his pale, flat stomach. The neck of it slid down to bare a bit of shoulder when he brushed his hair back out of his eyes. He pulled off the gardening gloves he was wearing, revealing long, elegant fingers and nails painted with chipped black polish.

“Mr. Shirogane,” Allura began, “this is my foster son, Keith Kogane. Keith, this is Mr. Takashi Shirogane.”

“Nice to meet you,” Keith said, extending a hand to Shiro.

Shiro could only stare dumbly at it for a moment. He noticed Keith’s expression changing, his eyes narrowing slightly, and finally managed to find his voice.

“I...Shiro. I’m Shiro.” He swallowed, then reached out to take Keith’s hand.

As soon as their palms touched, a jolt went through him. Kuron howled inside his skull, drowning out everything else; Keith’s lips were moving, asking him something, but Shiro couldn’t hear him. The world flashed white for a second. All he could hear was howling. Howling, and... _thunder_?

The sound of rain hitting the opaque tarp snapped Shiro back to his senses. He could see light on the other side of the tarp, but the drops of water splattering it from the outside were unmistakably raindrops. Allura and Keith exchanged confused looks.

“Is it...raining?” Keith asked.

“The sun’s still out, though,” Alluar remarked. “And I don’t remember there being any rain in the forecast…”

Horror curled in Shiro’s gut. Rain on a sunny day could only mean…

“I...um...I think I forgot to roll up the windows of the car,” he stammered out, trying not to let the horror show on his face. “Let me, um, let me go check on that…”

Ignoring Keith and Allura’s looks, Shiro hurried back inside, then tore ass through the house, bursting through the front door. Sure enough, the sky was mostly overcast, and fat drops of rain were falling - but one patch of sky remained optimistically blue, the sun still shining stubbornly through.

Shiro didn’t know if the Americans had a term for this particular kind of weather, or a story to go along with it, but the Japanese sure as hell did. Back home, the stories - the ones he’d grown up on, told to him by both his parents and grandfather - claimed that days like these were the only days where fox spirits could marry. They even called the type of phenomenon a fox wedding. And, unless there was another kitsune somewhere nearby, then that meant only one thing.

Kuron had initiated a marriage bond.

With Keith.

Shiro leaned his head against one of the carved white pillars that helped to support the massive front porch, feeling raindrops splatter against his head and face. He took a deep breath, then uttered two words for only him and the rain to hear:

“Oh _fuck_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys thought Kuron was bad now, just wait...
> 
> [Come hang with me on Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	6. A Rock and a Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk gets suspicious of their new guest, and Shiro comes to terms with how utterly screwed he is.

“Strange…”

“What’s strange?” Pidge, who had been leaning against the counter and playing with her phone, looked up, raising an eyebrow at Hunk.

“Look outside,” he said, pointing to the window over the kitchen sink. Pidge scrambled over, standing on tiptoes to see out. Raindrops splattered against the window, even though there were still blue patches of sky visible and sunlight still distantly glinted off the water.

“Oh!” Pidge said. “It’s a sun shower!”

“Is that what it’s called?”

Pidge nodded. “I mean, there’s regional variations and colloquialisms, but officially, that’s what they’re called. I’ve heard down in the South, they refer to it as the Devil beating his wife, which, if you ask me, is kind of fucked up.”

“In Japan, they call it a fox’s wedding.”

Pidge wrinkled her nose in confusion. “A fox’s wedding?”

“Okay, so my dad used to tell me stories about this when I was growing up,” Hunk said. “According to the stories, fox spirits can only get married on days like this.”

“Fox spirits? You mean like dead foxes?”

“What the - ? No! I mean like, kitsunes and servants of the fox god and stuff like that.” Hunk shook his head. “Anyways, whenever it rains while the sun is out, that means a fox spirit has married its beloved.”

Pidge nodded. “Hmm. I mean, really, this is way more common than you think, since it’s just a combination of rain falling and the sun being low enough on the horizon that it’s basically shining under the clouds. Unless - ”

Pidge continued her scientific rant about sun showers - punctuated frequently with hand gestures - but Hunk didn’t catch most of it. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention; when he turned to look, he saw Shiro tear past the kitchen, pounding towards the front door. His running past even got Pidge’s attention, as she broke off from her long-winded explanation of meteorology to watch him go.

“Huh. He’s in a hurry.”

A sharp, almost acrid scent filled the air. For a moment, Hunk thought he had burnt dinner. But no, it wasn’t burnt food - it was the smell of terror. And it hadn’t popped up until Shiro had run past.

Hunk took a long sniff. Under the initial, sharp tang of fear was something else - a new scent, familiar and yet not at the same time. He knew it was Shiro’s scent, but there was something off about it - instead of the copper-and-salt tang of a human scent, he had a strange, musky undertone, something more animalistic than any normal human ought to smell like…

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm?” Hunk snapped out of it and realized that Pidge was staring at him, one eyebrow cocked up in confusion.

“You had, like, this really weird look on your face. Everything okay?”

Hunk nodded. “Yeah...yeah, it’s fine.”

He turned back to the vegetables he’d been chopping, gnawing at his lower lip. The smell still lingered, and the more he sniffed it, the more he could place that musk, could tie it back to early-morning hunts before he’d left the pack in the north of the state, back to dens dug into hills that the pack would corner and snap at the entrances. His eyes widened when it finally hit him.

Takashi Shirogane smelled like a fox.

* * *

 

Shiro spent a good five minutes on the porch, just barely resisting the urge to put his entire head through one of the supporting columns while he came to terms with how utterly boned he was.

This part of the plan was supposed to be easy - get his  _ hoshi no tama _ , quickly and politely finish the tour of the house, then drive back to Seattle and hop the first plane to Tokyo.

But then, Kuron had had to rear his stupid head…

**_Drama queen_ ** , Kuron hissed.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Shiro grumbled, lifting his head from where it was resting on the pole.

**_Too bad._ **

Shiro stepped down off the porch, heading for his rental car. “You’ve made a mess of everything. Again.”

**_Where are you going?_ **

“Anywhere but here.”

**_What about dinner?_ **

“After what you just did?” Shiro yanked open the passenger door so hard it groaned, tossing his hoodie into the seat. “Not going to happen.”

**_But our mate!_ **

“I barely know him! He’s not my mate!”

**_He is now._ **

“Look, it is bad enough that I’ve been dragged into your nonsense. We are not dragging some strange boy we don’t even know into all this. No matter how attractive he is.”

**_HA! You admit it!_ **

“What? That he’s attractive?” Shiro blew out a derisive sigh that sent strands of his hair dancing. “Anyone with eyes can see that. He’s also a stranger. I don’t know the first thing about him - including whether or not he’s even single. Or if he even is interested in men. Don’t suppose you thought about either of those things, did you?”

**_Both things that can be easily fixed._ **

“I swear to Inari, if you say something about eating someone’s liver, the first thing I will do when we get home is I will march into the temple and renounce you and my powers, so don’t you even - !”

A creak came from the front porch. Shiro yelped, turning around, as if trying to conceal the fact that his car door was open and he was about to bolt.

“Mr. Shirogane?”

Keith had slipped out the front door, and was now making his way down the porch stairs. Shiro’s heart climbed into his throat, and he licked his suddenly-dry lips.

“Y-Yes?”

Heedless of the fact that he was still barefoot, Keith crossed to Shiro’s car in a handful of long-legged strides. With the distance closed, Shiro could take in some of the details he’d missed in their initial meeting: Keith had at least two tattoos; the symbol of Mars was inked on the inside of his right forearm, and a dragon wrapped around his left. His ears were pierced at least four times - and they tapered to a point, which was pierced with a bar. He was thin and lanky, but he was tall - maybe only a head shorter than Shiro, or less. His purple eyes narrowed as he spotted Shiro’s open car door.

“I thought Allura said you were staying for dinner?”

_ Think fast, Shirogane, think fast! _

“I...am,” Shiro began, “but...um…”

The plant. He’d lugged that stupid Christmas cactus all the way from Phoenix, despite Kuron’s insistence that he should toss it - or eat it, as he’d suggested more than once. He turned around, grabbed the plant, and presented it to Keith.

“I found a box at the end of the driveway,” he lied, hoping it sounded convincing. “The, um, the box was kind of ruined by the rain, but this was what was inside of it…”

Keith’s eyes went wide, and Shiro really hoped that Keith didn’t think he’d stalked him all the way from Phoenix to Seattle - even though that was, technically, what he’d done. However, Keith’s entire face lit up in a blinding grin that made Shiro’s stomach do a somersault. 

“You found Henry!”

“I...huh?”

Keith took the plant from Shiro’s hands, pointing to the pot. A strip of masking tape had been stuck to the pot, and the name Henry was scribbled on the tape. Apparently, Keith had decided to name the plant.

“I didn’t even realize I’d left him until after we got here,” Keith said, shaking his head. He then peeked up at Shiro through his untidy white hair and long, dark lashes, and Shiro damn near keeled over in the driveway. “You have no idea how much this plant means to me.”

**_He’s cute when he smiles,_ ** Kuron remarked.  **_We need to make him smile more._ **

“Anyways…” Keith took a deep breath. “If you’re planning on staying, Hunk’s just about done with dinner.”

_ No, no, this is a bad idea, this is a really bad idea, tell the kid no, Takashi… _

“Yes, I’m staying,” Shiro said, the words out of his mouth before he could either stop them or fully consider the implications of them.”

Keith nodded. “Cool. Well...come on in.”

He turned - his movements graceful, almost too graceful - and headed back towards the house. Shiro moved to follow, but he hadn’t gotten any more than two steps before he was stopped dead in his tracks.

The air around him - the space Keith had just occupied - was different. He could feel it now, in a way he hadn’t been able to when he’d first entered the house, that he’d been too distracted in the greenhouse to notice. It was strong as the energy he’d felt at the apartment in Phoenix, but not even - no, it was uncertain, neutral, neither good nor bad, but it was powerful.

And Fae.

**_Mate is a Fae,_ ** Kuron chuckled.  **_Mate is a very powerful Fae._ **

Shiro sighed. Dinner was about to become very, very interesting.

* * *

 

“I really hope you don’t have any food allergies,” Hunk said with a slightly nervous smile, setting a platter on the table. “Or any objections to certain types of meat. I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“No, no, I’m, uh...I’m good,” Shiro said, giving Hunk what he hoped was a convincing smile. He sat at the very large and old-looking dining room table, painfully aware of the fact that he was less than a foot from Keith, who was helping himself to a large slab of chicken. Pidge sat across the table, next to an empty spot he assumed was Hunk’s. Allura swept in and took a seat at the head of the table, reaching for a glass and a bottle of red wine.

“So tell me, Shiro,” Allura said as she poured a glass of wine, “what do you do?”

“Ah…” He swallowed, trying to think of a good lie while spooning rice onto his plate. “Well...um...I’m actually still in the process of transferring everything to the country. But, um...I’m hoping to get a job as a professor, or a teaching assistant.”

There. Not technically a lie; after all, back in Sapporo, he worked as an engineering professor at a junior college, as well as helping take care of the shrine. 

“What do you teach?” Keith asked around a mouthful of chicken.

“I...I teach engineering.”

Across the table, Pidge perked up, eyes sparkling. She opened her mouth and began chattering, asking questions in one long, excited stream. Shiro’s attention, however, was dragged away from her excited rant by the sight of Hunk putting one final platter on the table, right between Shiro and Allura.

“Allura, I know you’re vegetarian, and I promise I didn’t forget about you. The tofu just took a little longer to finish marinating.”

**_TOFU?!_ **

Shiro winced, hoping no one saw it as Kuron began to lose his shit entirely inside of Shiro’s skull.

**_TOFUTOFUTOFUTOFUTOFUTOFU!!!!_ **

“Thank you, Hunk,” Allura said with a gracious smile. “It smells amazing.”

“Blech,” Pidge said, sticking her tongue out. Keith, meanwhile, made a face, his pert nose wrinkling, and damn it, he had no right to look that cute while making a stink face.

**_We need the tofu we need it we MUST HAVE IT!!!_ **

“Yeah...the, uh...the tofu, um...smells really good…” Shiro said, gripping the edge of the table like it was his last link to sanity - which, with Kuron’s shrieking, it very well was, at this point.

“Oh, feel free to have some,” Allura said, gesturing to the plate. “I don’t think I could eat all of this on my own.”

“Yeah, help yourself, dude,” Hunk said - though his light tone didn’t match the intense stare he’d fixed Shiro with. “I made plenty.”

For a moment, Shiro didn’t move. Neither did Hunk. They simply stared at each other; Hunk’s eyes then dropped down to the plate of tofu before coming back up to Shiro, brown irises ringed with a halo of gold.

That animal musk Shiro had been catching whiffs of hadn’t been coming from a pet, Shiro realized with a jolt. It had been coming from Hunk.

Hunk raised his eyebrows. A challenge.

_ He knows. _

**_Eat his liver!_ **

_ He’ll tear me apart. Not even you’d been enough to stop him. _

Kuron hissed, but didn’t protest. Slowly, Shiro reached for the plate of tofu, scooping some of it onto his own plate. He never broke eye contact with Hunk; he hoped the other man could see the plea in his eyes, the plea of  _ please don’t rat me out, I just came here for one simple thing and I’ve already gotten way more than I bargained for, please don’t say anything, I beg of you… _

Hunk merely smiled and pulled out his chair to take a seat. “Hope you like it.”

Well, now he had no choice. With a forced smile, Shiro shoveled a forkful of the tofu dish into his mouth. Surprisingly, it tasted quite good - and Shiro had had more than his fair share of tofu, despite not actually liking it. It was well-seasoned and marinated, and Hunk had done a good job of cooking it. However, all the good cooking in the world couldn’t distract Shiro from feeling like he had just taken a bite out of a sponge. 

_ I really hate you for this. _

Kuron, for a change, was silent.

Hunk watched him eat the first mouthful, then he turned to Keith and Pidge with a grin. “See? Told you it’s not bad.”

Pidge eyed the plate in the middle of the table with suspicion. “I’m still not eating it.”

“Yeah, that’s a hard pass for me,” Keith said. Shiro noticed that, outside of a pile of uneaten kale, Keith’s plate was already completely empty. “Can I be excused?”

“Aren’t you going to eat your vegetables?” Allura asked, eyes narrowing on the pile of untouched greens.

“Nope.”

She sighed, shoulders drooping. Keith slid out from his seat, heading for the trash can with his plate in hand. Shiro felt the absence of Keith’s presence, of his energy, as if someone had ripped a band-aid off of him. In a move that his human brain realized looked really, really desperate, he twisted in his chair to follow Keith’s movements - and froze.

He’d missed it in the greenhouse - how, he wasn’t entirely sure, though he chalked it up to being overwhelmed by Keith’s presence - but now, he could see a line of tattoos marching up Keith’s spine, disappearing up under his top. Inked in an intricate, dappled pattern of blacks and grays, a waning crescent moon, half moon, and part of a waning gibbous moon winked at Shiro; each moon was surrounded by a splash of vibrant colors that wove around them in one continuous, color-changing ribbon.

“I like your tattoo!”

Oh, Inari help him. The words had come flying out of Shiro’s mouth before his dumb brain could even realize what he was saying - or how stupidly desperate and lovestruck-dopey it sounded. He was pretty sure his voice had actually cracked in the middle of the compliment, like he was thirteen years old again.

Keith, who had been scraping his plate over a large white bucket next to the trash can, turned and fixed his gaze on Shiro. His brows were furrowed slightly, and Shiro nearly wilted under his intense violet gaze.

But then, like clouds parting for the sun, Keith’s face lit up with a smile. 

“Heh, thanks. I’m kind of an astronomy geek.” He rolled up his right sleeve; in addition to the symbol of Mars, he had a symbol of Pluto inked into his bicep. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Stars are...stars are cool.”

_ Stars are cool _ . That had  _ really _ just come out of his mouth.

**_Stars are cool. You, however, are not._ **

Shiro had to try not to visually react to Kuron’s jab; after all, he was trying to act normal. Instead, he watched as Keith nodded, stuck his plate in the sink, and padded out of the dining room. A moment later, Shiro heard a door open and close, and he figured Keith had gone back to his greenhouse.

Gradually, Pidge and Hunk finished their dinners and left the table as well; Pidge was relegated to dish duty, while Hunk said something about heading down to the waterfront. He paused at the door to the dining room, giving Shiro a narrow-eyed look, as if he expected him to do something untoward with Allura as soon as he stepped out the door.

_ Oh trust me, she’s not the one you need to be worried about… _

Hunk did leave, however, and it was down to just Shiro and Allura at the dining room table. Allura poured herself another glass of wine and gave Shiro a kind, though somewhat tired, smile.

“So, what do you think of the house?”

“It’s beautiful,” Shiro said, and he meant it, too. Allura’s house was beautiful, and peaceful, too, despite the fact that she had three teenagers living under her roof.

“So...do you think you’d like to rent out the room I showed you?”

Shit. He still had to actually give her an answer on that. He knew, of course, that he could - he should - just say no outright. After all, he didn’t owe anything to Allura; she was a stranger. And there a number of reasons he could give for turning her down, all of which would hide the true reason - that he’d come to the States for one purpose, and now that he’d fulfilled that purpose, his only plan was to return home and resume his life over there. But there was something that looked like hope in Allura’s eyes - she’d probably interviewed quite a few potential tenants. She had to be tired of looking. And the house was huge...how much did it cost to keep the place up and running? And not just that, but take care of at least two of the three people living with her, which she had to be, seeing as she’d introduced Keith and Pidge as her foster children.

**_Soft-hearted human,_ ** Kuron sighed.

Shiro cleared his throat. “Well, I…”

**_We should stay._ **

That threw Shiro through a loop. With how miserable Kuron had been the entire trip, he expected the demon-spirit to be entirely fed up with Shiro trying to gently let Allura down, not suggesting that he stay.

**_Our mate is here. We stay, we keep him. We make him our bride._ **

_ Okay, first of all, we barely know him, _ Shiro replied.  _ And second of all, he wouldn’t be a  _ bride  _ because he’s  _ male _. He would be a  _ husband _. And again, I’d like to remind you, we still don’t know if he’s even into men.  _

**_He’s still our mate. We stay. We keep our mate._ **

Shiro needed to go back to Japan. His whole life was there - his job, his friends, his brother and grandfather. He didn’t have the means to pay rent to Allura, since he didn’t have a job in the States. He wasn’t even sure if he could legally get a job. He didn’t have a work visa. All he had was a passport, and that would only buy him so much time living in the United States before police officers - or worse, immigration officers - started sniffing around.

**_We can’t leave. Our mate is here._ **

Grandfather. Ryou. His friends. His students at the junior college. Shiro forced himself to conjure up images of all of them - even his shitty roommate, who had gotten him into this situation to begin with. All of them, to remind him of the people waiting for him to come home. To remind him why he had to go back.

Kuron, however, came back with images of his own. Him and Keith, curled into each other on a sofa, a blanket draped over their shoulders. Keith with dirt smeared across his face, kissing him hard and hot in the greenhouse. Him laying Keith down on his stomach, on a bed with rumpled sheets, kissing a path down his spine, lips to every moon inked there…

“I want to have a look at my finances,” Shiro finally said, heat rushing to his face, wondering if Allura could hear how loudly his heart was pounding. “See how things look. But...I will let you know.”

Allura’s smile was bright and excited, and she gave him a gracious nod. “That sounds wonderful!”

Shiro smiled back, hoping that it didn’t look too forced - because while he smiled, dread pooled in his stomach.

_ What have I gotten myself into? _

* * *

 

The frame of the hotel bed let out a very loud squeak as Shiro’s full weight came to bear. The pillows wobbled from where they’d been arranged at the head of the bed. Here, alone in his hotel room and laying face-down on the bed, Shiro groaned the stream of profanities he’d kept in on the ride home into the very ugly floral bedspread.

_**Really? You should be thanking me.** _

“Thanking you? What in Inari’s name should I be thanking you for?”

_**Insolent human whelp!**_ Kuron snarled. _**I found us a mate! And not just any mate! I found us a Fae prince!**_

“Yeah, your little stunt is what got me into this mess in the first place. I could have just finished the tour, thanked Allura, and gone and booked my flight back home, but no, you had to go and outright marry someone we’ve known for two hours.” Shiro rolled onto his back. “So thanks for nothing, you intangible pain in my ass.”

Kuron gave a growl, but didn’t say anything else, leaving Shiro to stare up at the popcorned ceiling, half-blinded by the overhead light. He groaned, fisting his hands into his hair.

He had to go back to Japan. No, it would be better to stay with Keith. But he barely knew Keith, and agreeing to live in the same house as him just to maybe - _**hopefully**_ \- get into his pants felt dirty and wrong to Shiro. But would he be able to manage, putting an ocean between himself and the person Kuron had decided would be his mate?

No matter what angle he looked at it from, he was screwed.

He brought his hands down to rest on the bed; his right hand hit something solid, laying on his bed right next to his leg. His phone.

His phone…

He sat up, ignoring the rush of blood that went to his head from the sudden movement, and unlocked his phone. If there was any one person who might be able to offer him advice...he just hoped, as he opened Facetime and tapped on the familiar contact, that he would pick up…

A moment later, the screen lit up with the wizened face of Hayato Shirogane; he smiled, a warm and kind thing that eased the tension that had built up in Shiro’s chest.

“Grandfather,” he greeted, giving his grandfather a nod.

“Takashi,” Hayato replied, “I was wondering when we’d hear from you.” He turned away from the screen slightly. “Ryou! Your brother’s on the phone!”

There was a moment’s pause, and then, with an exasperated huff, Hayato set the phone down and walked off. Shiro heard faint electronic sounds, and then, an offended cry from his brother. A moment later, Hayato reappeared, a firm hand clasped on Ryou’s shoulder. Shiro’s younger brother scowled at the both of them, dark eyes glittering with annoyance. 

“Sorry about that,” Hayato said.

“Ryou?” Shiro checked the clock on the bedside table, did some quick math, and gasped, horrified, when he realized what time it was. “Ryou! It’s thirteen-thirty, what are you doing home? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“School?” Ryou snorted. “You forgot already, didn’t you? Not all of us are like you. Not all of us can go to high school and fancy colleges and then become servants to the fox god.”

With a quickness that wouldn’t have been expected from someone his age, Hayato swatted Ryou on the back of the head. Ryou jumped a few inches.

“Hey!”

“That was for the blasphemy. Inari is much more than that, and he is always listening.”

“First of all, I’d like you remind you that I didn’t exactly sign up for the position,” Shiro said. 

Hayato looked scandalized, and Shiro was pretty sure that if he hadn’t been across the ocean, he would have gotten a slap to the back of his head, too. “Takashi!”

“Sorry, Grandfather!” He felt his cheeks flush, but pressed on, focusing his attention back on Ryou. “Secondly, what about your lessons with Grandfather? Aren’t you supposed to be learning how to help keep up the shrine?”

“I’ve been working on it.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow at him. “Was that what you were doing when I called? Because it definitely didn’t sound like that…”

“Takashi, could you just act like a brother for five seconds?” Ryou grumbled. “I already have Grandfather on my back all the time. I don’t need you there, too.”

Hayato hushed Ryou forcefully, then turned his attention to Shiro. His dark eyes studied Shiro closely, his expression serious. 

“You found it?”

Shiro reached for the cord around his neck, pulling his  _ hoshi no tama _ from under the neckline of his shirt.

Hayato breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I do hope you’ve learned a valuable lesson from this, Takashi.”

Shiro bowed his head. He knew his grandfather would almost never raise his voice, but Shiro would rather have had him yell. Better than than the look of stern disappointment on his grandfather’s face.

“Yes, Grandfather.”

Hayato’s expression softened, and he smiled again. “Good. So, when is your flight home?”

Shiro cleared his throat, feeling his gut clench. He rubbed at the back of his neck, refusing to meet his grandfather’s gaze. “Yes, about that…”

“Takashi?” Hayato frowned. “What is it?”

“Well, um…”

“I know you had to extend your stay in the United States. I can help you cover your plane ticket home, if that is what you need. You can pay me back later.”

“What?!” Ryou gave his grandfather a look. “You’d never do that for me!”

“Hush, Ryou.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Shiro said, shaking his head. His budget was still okay, probably due to a few nights living off of cheap cup noodles from the convenience store across from the hotel. “It’s um...more complicated than that.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Well, um...that depends on your definition of that…”

“Takashi Shirogane, what happened over there?”

“It’s not legal trouble, grandfather! I promise!” Shiro took a deep breath to try to steady his nerves. “It’s…”

He looked up. Hayato was watching him, one eyebrow raised. Even Ryou was silent, waiting to hear what Shiro was going to say.

“Um...while I was here...K-Kuron...Kuron, he, um…”

He faltered. Hayato raised his other eyebrow, a silent demand to continue. Shiro took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“Kuron initiated a marriage bond.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High school is not compulsory in Japan, and entry into high school requires testing and money to pay for school, uniforms, and all school activities. While Shiro attended high school, his sixteen-year-old brother has chosen instead to ~~train as a priest of Inari~~ play video games and eat food.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr!](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com/)


	7. All's Fair in Love and War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk looks to Keith and Pidge for moral support, while Shiro realizes exactly what kind of mess he's gotten himself into.

For a moment, Hayato and Ryou were so still and silent that Shiro thought the call was frozen. Finally, Hayato let out a long breath.

“Well. That is...unexpected.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Shiro said, hearing a note of despair creep into his voice. “It just...did. There was a fox wedding and everything. I couldn’t stop it.”

“I know you didn’t mean for it to happen,” Hayato said. “I assume this happened while you were retrieving your _hoshi no tama_.”

Shiro nodded.

“Wait, wait,” Ryou said. “You got married?”

“Sort of?” Shiro said. “Kuron initiated the marriage bond, and, well...he doesn’t take well to being told no…”

“Well, you wasted no time at all,” Ryou said. “So...is your new wife hot?”

Ah. That was the other part of it - and Shiro knew that times were changing, that Japan was not Russia or Chechnya, and that they even offered same-sex couples certificates of partnerships in many cities, including Sapporo, which was basically a marriage license without all the bells and whistles. Shiro had seen plenty of same-sex couples around the city. But Grandfather Hayato was from a different time, and Shiro wasn’t quite sure how he’d take the next part of his announcement - especially since Shiro had never even shown any interest in dating in general, much less dating someone of the same gender. There had always been something in the way - high school, then college, then building his career at the junior college.

“Um...that’s the other thing,” Shiro began slowly, seeing Ryou and Hayato’s eyes drawing to him, watching intensely. “I...I don’t have a wife.”

There was a long moment of silence. Shiro felt as though he could actually hear the world turning on his axis, waiting to see if either his grandfather or his brother would understand, wouldn’t make him have to say the second part. But they didn’t respond, they just stared. So finally, he took a deep breath, his next four words feeling like two-ton weights being dropped as they left his lips.

“I have a husband.”

* * *

It had been almost two hours since Takashi Shirogane had left, and yet Hunk still felt unsettled.

He’d thought about what happened over dinner the entire time he ran through the streets of the town, wishing it was night so he could have stripped off his skin and run around in his fur. While he hadn’t grown up in Japan, he’d heard the stories from his father and grandparents often enough. He knew Shirogane was a kitsune. And he also knew that kitsunes were not a particularly trustworthy bunch. The idea of living with one didn’t sit very well with him.

_ Am I the only one who noticed?  _ He wondered, padding back downstairs to the first floor of the house, hair still damp from a post-run shower. Was I the only one to see him for what he is?

The lights in the den were off, but a blue glow emanated from the doorway, and he could hear Keith and Pidge squabbling inside. He trotted towards the den; maybe Keith or Pidge had noticed something off about Shirogane, too, but hadn’t said anything out of the fear that they were the only ones who had noticed.

He found Keith sprawled on the floor of the den, long limbs akimbo, while Pidge sat cross-legged on the couch. Both of them had game controllers in their hands, and were playing a very intense round of Mario Kart.

“Hey guys,” Hunk began, trying desperately to sound casual as he took a seat on the couch next to Pidge.

“Hey dude,” Pidge greeted, not taking her eyes off the television screen. “You want in on the next round?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “So, um...what’d you think of the guy who came by tonight? Mr. Shirogane?”

Pidge smiled. “I liked him. He’s an engineering teacher, so I bet he knows a lot about robots and stuff.”

“He seemed cool,” Keith said with a shrug. “At least he didn’t keep bring up my family, or calling me ‘Your Highness’ or anything like that. Nice change of pace from the last few people who’ve come through here.”

“Remember that one guy who came through?” Pidge asked. “The one that tried to snip off a lock of Keith’s hair as a souvenir?”

Keith scowled. “Yeah, I remember that asshole.”

“Okay, but the look on his face when Hunk straight-up snarled at him. Dude, that was epic.”

Hunk chuckled a little. “That was kind of fun.”

“That’ll make him think twice about trying to snip off my hair,” Keith said. Onscreen, a series of cartoonish cars whizzed through a finish line, and Keith reached for another controller, sitting up to pass it to Hunk. “You in, big man?”

Hunk was way too preoccupied with the fact that a kitsune had walked into their house - and, if he wasn’t mistaken, initiated a marriage bond with someone - to even think about playing video games. However, it didn’t seem like Pidge or Keith had any intention of leaving the den or their video game anytime soon. So he accepted the controller from Keith with only a small sigh, watching as Keith flicked through the different tracks.

“Wanna pick one before we all die of old age?” Pidge heckled from the couch.

“I’m picking one, get off my dick,” Keith grumbled, thumb twiddling a joystick until it highlighted one particularly infamous road. He turned around to look at the both of them, the grin on his face downright evil. “How about Rainbow Road?”

“You wouldn’t!” Pidge said.

“Um, actually, yes, I would.”

“Nope. Pick another track, we’re not doing Rainbow Road.”

“What’s the matter?” Keith asked, a taunt in his voice. “Scared I’ll kick your ass?”

Pidge scowled. “Shut up, asswipe.”

“Then come on. Put your money where your mouth is, you little hobgoblin.”

“Fine! I’ll play your stupid Rainbow Road!” Pidge snatched up her controller again. “And I’ll kick your little fairy ass, too!”

Snickering, Keith selected the track, then wasted no time in picking Bowser for his racer. Pidge chose Wario, making obnoxious “wehhh!” sounds as she did. Hunk, whose head was miles away, picked Toad simply because he liked Toad’s little mushroom hat. He couldn’t help but drum his fingers on the controller while the track loaded, and as the racers all waited while the screen counted down to the start of the race. He wanted - needed - to know if Pidge and Keith had noticed what he’d noticed about Takashi Shirogane, wanting desperately to feel like he was not the only one who had noticed that the man was not all he seemed.

_ 3...2...1...GO! _

The screen flashed, and Keith and Pidge took off, leaving poor Toad in a cloud of virtual dust. Hunk halfheartedly worked the joystick.

“So, um...did you guys notice anything weird about Mr. Shirogane?” he asked.

“He ate tofu. That’s pretty weird to me,” Pidge snickered; onscreen, Wario zoomed ahead of Bowser. “Suck iiiiiiiiiit!”

“He seemed pretty normal to me,” Keith said, brows furrowing and thumbs rapidly working the controller. “Except for the metal prosthetic. That was a little unusual.”

“I dunno, I didn’t think it was unusual so much as I thought it was badass,” Pidge said.

Keith shrugged. “I guess so, yeah. Kind of had a  _ Fullmetal Alchemist _ vibe to it. Like Edward Elric, but tall.”

“You think he made that arm himself? He did say he taught engineering, so maybe he did.”

“He only said he was a TA. They mostly lead lectures and grade papers. I don’t think ‘build a robot arm’ is in the TA job description.”

“Yeah, well, he looked smart enough to be able to build a fully functioning metal prosthetic, so there.” Pidge suddenly yelped, elbows swinging wide, almost catching Hunk in the head. “Don’t you blue-shell me, you asshole!”

“All’s fair in  _ Mario Kart _ , gremlin,” Keith retorted.

“I swear to Hecate, if you blue-shell me, I will come into your room while you’re sleeping and dye that mop on your head bright pink!”

“Okay!” Hunk cut in, a note of frustration in his voice. Had Keith and Pidge really not noticed what had walked into their house? “Are you sure you guys didn’t notice anything weird about Mr. Shirogane?”

“Um...not really?” Pidge said. “He seemed, um, kinda nervous? But...but otherwise normal?”

“Yeah.” Keith said up and turned slightly, face half-illuminated by the glow of the TV screen. His thumbs were still furiously working the controls, and Hunk realized he was still playing - and somehow was staying on the track, which was a very impressive feat. “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You seem really suspicious of Shiro,” Keith said, and there was something about that - about the fact that the man was Shiro and not Mr. Shirogane to Keith - that unsettled Hunk, and he couldn’t quite say why.

“Yeah,” Pidge agreed. “What’s up? Did he say something rude? Is he actually a total d-bag? Cause if he is, you just tell us, and we’ll make sure he never darkens our doorway again.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Hunk said. “I just...I get a weird vibe from him. Like...like he’s hiding something.”

_ Why am I not just outing him? Kitsune are untrustworthy - and who knows how much he lets the fox half take control? _ Hunk just wanted to tell Keith and Pidge, wanted them to understand what had him so worked up, but there was a knot of what felt like guilt twisting up in his gut, and it twisted harder the more he thought about telling Keith and Pidge about Mr. Shirogane.  _ Maybe he’s in control. Maybe...maybe he’s good. A servant of Inari, or something… _

Keith shrugged. “I mean, for all we know, he might not even come back. He might not want to live this far out from the city or something.”

_ Maybe...maybe he won’t even come back at all. _ That hadn’t occurred to Hunk, at least not until Keith had mentioned it. He nodded slowly. “Yeah...maybe not.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, really,” Keith said. “If he comes back, he comes back. If he doesn’t, then we don’t worry about him.”

“And if he does come back, and he is up to no good, we’ll handle it - all of us. Together,” Pidge said.

Hunk swallowed, chuckling weakly. “Thanks. You guys are the best.”

“I wouldn’t say that…” Keith said carefully, turning back to the screen. Hunk and Pidge exchanged confused looks.

“What are you talking about..?”

Something blue rushed across the screen, and Wario went spinning off Rainbow Road. Pidge shrieked, before turning to Keith, seething with rage.

“You asshole! You blue-shelled me!”

“Haaaaaaaaa!” Keith laughed, jamming the joystick forward. On screen, a car zipped across the finish line, and “Winner!” flashed. The leaderboard popped up, with Bowser in the top slot - and, thanks to Keith’s blue-shell maneuver, Wario had dropped back to seventh place. Keith turned to face Pidge with a shit-eating grin. 

“What was that about kicking my ass again?”

Hunk was pretty sure that, if Pidge got any angrier, steam would come out of her ears. Keith, totally unfazed by her murderous expression, just laughed - at least, he laughed until Pidge chucked one of the pillows on the sofa at him, screeching three words at ear-splitting volume:

“ _ GO TO HELL! _ ”

* * *

It was horribly, painfully silent for a very long moment after Shiro told his grandfather and brother that he had a new husband. He swallowed hard, wondering how his grandfather would take it - not only because he was a product of a different time, but because Shiro was also the oldest son, the one expected to get a good job, marry well, and have sons to carry on his legacy - something that he’d just managed to completely shut down in four words.

But Hayato merely shrugged. “Well, I certainly hope Kuron found you a good man.”

“You’re...you’re not upset?” Shiro asked, loosing the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“Why would I be upset?”

“Well...I am the oldest son, and there are expectations…”

“People like you and I can’t always afford the luxury of conforming to those expectations. We cater to the whims of a rather unpredictable god.” Hayato smiled softly. “Besides, I don’t care about what society expects. I’ve been on this earth for too long to worry about that sort of thing anymore. What I care about is whether or not you’re happy, Takashi.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Ryou said. “I mean, let’s be real, I’m not entirely surprised by this.”

Shiro’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Boys,” Hayato cut in, giving them both a look that stopped them in their tracks. He focused his attention on Shiro again. “So tell us about him.”

“Um...well…” Shiro began, “you remember what I found out from Daisuke, right? About who he ended up selling my  _ hoshi no tama  _ to?”

“Yeah, some guy in America named Keith,” Ryou said. “What about it?”

“Well…”

Ryou’s face fell completely flat, giving Shiro a look that he knew meant that his brother was trying to figure out just how much of an idiot he was.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’s not like I planned for it to happen…”

“I think you may actually be the dumbest smart person I know.”

“ _Ryou_.” Hayato shut his younger grandson down with a look, then turned his attention back to his eldest grandson. “If you so desire, we can fix the situation.”

“We can?” Shiro asked hesitantly.

Hayato nodded. “I can break the bond between Kuron and Keith.”

_Break the bond._ There was absolutely nothing wrong with Keith; in fact, he seemed like a great guy. But at the same time, Shiro knew it wasn’t fair to keep him in the bond, especially considering he hadn’t initiated it, Kuron had. Besides, he hadn’t even finished high school yet, according to Allura. He had a whole life ahead of him. The last thing he needed was to be married to some neurotic fox spirit taking up residence in the head of a Japanese tourist, and the last thing Shiro wanted was for Keith to be unhappy in order to make Kuron happy. He nodded firmly.

“Yes. We need to break the bond.”

**_NO!_ ** Kuron howled.  **_HOW DARE YOU!_ **

Shiro screwed up his face, trying to focus.  _ No. You’re not in control. I am. _

“I don’t suppose Kuron shares your feelings,” Hayato remarked.

“No,” Shiro ground out, clutching the sides of his head.  

“Remember who is in control, Takashi,” Hayato commanded. “Remember.”

“I know…”

**_DO NOT TAKE MY MATE AWAY FROM ME!_ **

“Patience yields focus, Takashi…”

**_HE’S MINE!_ **

Shiro clenched his teeth. Kuron was nearly as loud as he had been without the  _ hoshi no tama… _

The  _ hoshi no tama _ .

Shiro grabbed it from his pocket, squeezing it tight in one hand. His grandfather was speaking, but he couldn’t focus on it. All he could focus on was working Kuron deeper and deeper into his subconscious. He imagined taking strands of rope and using them to tie Kuron down inside his head, one limb, one thrashing tail, at a time. 

**_HE IS MY MATE!_ **

_ Patience yields focus… _

**_Screw you!_ ** Kuron was beginning to sound fainter already. 

_ Patience...yields focus… _

“Takashi…”

He imagined Kuron tied down, a final piece of rope in his hands to gag the fox spirit, which was howling and spitting curses at him loud enough to drown out his grandfather and Ryou on the other end of the call. He was almost there…

“Takashi!”

He gasped, snapping back to it. He was still on the bed, the phone clenched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white. Hayato had all but pressed his nose to the screen, and Ryou was crowded by his shoulders.

“Whoa,” Ryou said. “That was like some  _ Exorcist _ shit right there.”

“Ryou!” Hayato reached to smack him, but Ryou danced out of reach. He huffed, then looked back to Shiro. “You stopped breathing for a minute.”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “Kuron...doesn’t like the idea of breaking the bond.”

“But..?”

“But I don’t care. I can’t stay here. I can’t be married to Keith.” Shiro rubbed his temples, feeling a pounding headache starting to build. “I can’t risk something like this happening and being so far away from you, Grandfather. I need...I need to learn control.”

“It’s not control that you need,” Hayato said. “You need to learn to live with Kuron. That is not something I can teach you.”

“It’s not just about me, though,” Shiro said. “Keith is barely older than Ryou. He’s got his whole life ahead of him. The last thing he needs is to spend it married to me and Kuron.”

“It is for the best,” Hayato agreed.

“Besides,” Shiro added, “I think a Fae as powerful as Keith could do much better than...well, than me. And Kuron.”

Hayato’s eyes narrowed. “He’s Fae?”

Shiro nodded. “I felt it, tonight, when I was at his house. He’s a powerful Fae - I think he might even be royalty.”

“Oh, Takashi…” Hayato closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Takashi, I am so sorry…”

Shiro’s gut twisted in a knot. “What is it?”

“I cannot break the bond.”

The mental ropes holding Kuron in place snapped. His presence came rushing back with a very loud and triumphant “ **_HA_ ** !” that made Shiro’s stomach bottom out and his heart sink to his toes. “What? Why? You just said that you could!”

“That was before you told me he was Fae.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Things are...difficult between the two Fae courts,” Hayato said. “And your mating bond with Keith now makes you an ally to whatever court his loyalties lie with. And not only you - it makes Ryou and I allies, too. The magical and political implications of the bond itself would make it impossible for me to break the bond.”

“Way to go, Kashi,” Ryou commented. “You’ve only been in America for a week and a half, and now you’ve dragged me and Grandfather into a Fae war.”

“You’re not being helpful, I hope you know that.”

“Takashi. Ryouta. That’s enough,” Hayato scolded. “Now...there is a way to break this bond, but, quite frankly, it’s a long shot.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“You said the boy was a powerful Fae - likely royalty, especially given his power and his young age. The only way to break a marriage bond with Fae royalty is to get a blessing from the king of whichever court your partner’s loyalty lies with.”

“Since when did Kashi’s life turn into a side quest?” Ryou chimed in; in the last thirty seconds, he’d produced a box of Pocky from out of nowhere and was now talking with a mouth full of half-chewed biscuits and chocolate. Hayato hushed him.

“Okay. Okay. So...I just have to find the Fae King,” Shiro nodded firmly for a moment, then sighed, giving his grandfather a beseeching look. “I don’t suppose you know where to find him?”

“Well, first, it depends on whether you want the Seelie King or the Unseelie King.”

“I…” Shiro faltered. He had no idea which court Keith belonged to. “I don’t...I don’t know.”

“And even once you know which court Keith’s loyalties lie with, getting to the king will still be nearly impossible.”

A sick feeling rose in Shiro throat. He tried to swallow it down as best as he could. “Why is that?”

“The Seelie Court does not trust out kind. Among them, our kind has a reputation as liars and tricksters, and even your position as a servant-in-training of Inari will not sway them to think otherwise.”

“And the Unseelie Court?”

“They trust us more, but...the court is cutthroat, full of creatures straight from nightmares. They’re even less trustworthy than our kind are thought to be.”

“So what do I do?”

“Learn where Keith’s loyalties lie, then see if you can get an audience with the king of that court.”

“And...in the meantime?”

“Just try to keep busy and stay safe.” Hayato offered Shiro an apologetic smile. “I am sorry that there is not more that I can do.”

“It’s okay, Grandfather. I understand.”

Hayato nodded. “Get some rest. Keep Ryou and I updated.”

“I will. Take care.”

“Try not to accidentally marry any more Fae royalty while you’re at it,” Ryou snickered.

Shiro sighed. “And you try to do something more productive than playing video games.”

Ryou opened his mouth, likely to say something rude, but Hayato ended the call before he could. His grandfather and brother stayed frozen on the screen for a moment, then disappeared as the screen went dark. Shiro sighed.

“I hope you’re happy.”

**_I’m not apologizing._ **

“You should be. Thanks to you, I’m in some really deep trouble.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And all I wanted was a damn shower…”

Kuron said nothing. Shiro rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, running a hand through his hair, then picking up his phone. If he was going to be extending his stay in Washington indefinitely, there was one thing he could do to maybe make things easier.

The line picked up halfway through the second ring, and Allura’s voice was excited on the other end.

“Mr Shirogane?”

“Yes, it’s me. Is that room still available?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come hang out with me on Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also, mad props to [chibifoxai](http://chibifoxai.tumblr.com) for all the information about kitsune and Japanese culture.


	8. Freak on a Leash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith doesn't take shit from bigots, and Allura makes a terrible mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, guys, this chapter contains a panic attack and past mentions of child abuse. There's also an isolated incident involving corporeal punishment, an incident involving purposeful misgendering, and suggested transphobic/homophobic language. You can contact me via Tumblr (link in endnotes) if you need me to let you know where the specific incidents are.
> 
> Take care of yourselves, loves.

“Is...is that all you brought?”

Shiro almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of Keith behind him. He’d been quietly looking around his new bedroom and lamenting the fact that such a nice, beautiful bedroom was so empty. All of his belongings were back in Japan, and the cost of shipping furniture was so astronomical that Hayato and Ryou weren’t going to be able to send over his bed, dresser, or desk. They were in the process of packing his belongings from his apartment in Sapporo, but until they had gotten those things boxed and shipped, all he had was a suitcase full of clothes and a cheap air mattress.

He turned around. Keith was leaning against the doorframe, dressed like he’d been working in the garden. Strands of his hair - now jet black - had escaped his ponytail to cling to his neck, and he smelled faintly of sweat and dirt. Shiro had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat at the sight.

 **_This is a good look for our mate_ ** , Kuron commented.

“Heh, yeah,” Shiro said, trying not to blush, either from Kuron’s comment or his own nervousness. “Unfortunately, most of my belongings are still back in Japan. My, um, my grandfather is working on shipping them over.”

Not that Shiro planned on staying long enough to really need anything from home. Sure, his grandfather wasn’t able to break the marriage bond between Kuron and Keith, but there was still the fae king. Shiro had been hedging his bets on the fae king being able to break the bond...just as soon as he could figure out which court Keith’s allegiances lay with.

“Are you sure you don’t want a bed to sleep on in the meantime?” Keith asked. “There’s two beds in Pidge’s room. I’m sure Hunk and I could move the extra bed from there to here. Might be more comfortable than that.”

Keith jerked his chin towards the air mattress. Shiro had to say, it was a far cry from his own bed, or even the bed at the hotel he’d been staying at. The mattress there hadn’t been as comfortable as the one on his bed, but the front desk had been willing to provide him with plenty of extra pillows, more than enough to satisfy his fox-spirit-driven need to burrow.

“It’s fine,” Shiro said. “But thank you.”

 **_Mate is a good boy_ ** , Kuron said. **_I hope mate is nasty in bed, though._ **

_Why do you have to be so crass?_

“Well, if you need anything, I’m just up the stairs. And Allura’s room is, like, right around the corner.”

“Sounds good.” Shiro nodded, giving Keith a smile that he hoped was sincere and not creepy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Keith said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, showing off the tapered point of them. Shiro’s stomach lurched; here was an opportunity, dangling right in front of him, something to get him one step closer to breaking the marriage bond.

“Ah,” he began, trying to keep from sounding quite as excited as he felt, “I don’t mean to be rude, but...are your ears pointed?”

Surely, there’s no way he can talk himself out of a question as direct as that…

“Hmm? Oh. Um...yeah. Yeah, they are.” Keith reached up, untucking the lock of hair. “It’s a, uh...genetic thing. My family’s full of carriers for Williams Syndrome. It, uh...it does that sometimes. So...yeah.”

_Damn._

"Oh. Well. That’s...interesting.”

“Yep.” Keith stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Well, I’ve got to go take a shower. See you around.”

And like that, Keith was gone, along with Shiro’s chance to find out which court he belonged to. He sighed, flopping down onto the mattress, which compressed greatly under his weight.

**_Well done. You’ve chased him off._ **

"Yeah, yeah, I know.” He could hear Keith padding around upstairs, and put a hand over his eyes, for the shared purpose of massaging his temples and trying not to succumb to the urge to imagine Keith stripping off his sweaty clothes and getting into the shower, which was exactly what Kuron wanted him to do. “I’ll figure it out, though. He can’t hide forever.”

* * *

As much as being in high school at almost nineteen years old sucked, Keith had to say, he was kind of glad that Allura had made him enroll in the local high school, because the ease with which Morgan Lawrence and his group of friends had accepted him and Pidge into their fold helped to ease the ache of having lost all of his friends from Phoenix.

Currently, they were rumbling through town in Morgan’s beat-up van, which shook enough to make Keith’s teeth feel like they were going to dislodge from his skull. It was definitely an unpleasant ride, and he felt more carsick than he ever really had, but it was still a damn sight better than having to ride the bus home.

They hit a pothole, and the entire van shook. Pidge scowled, adjusting her glasses, which had almost fallen off her face.

“Why do you drive this piece of junk?”

Morgan put a hand to his chest, looking scandalized. “Dude. I’ll have you know that this _piece of junk_ is a genuine 1964 Volkswagen Microbus. Been in the family since my granddad bought it, and it still runs like a dream.”

The van rattled again, and Pidge shook her head. “Somehow, I’m not buying that.”

“Why do you even need something this big?” Keith asked.

“This van’s the go-to vehicle for group excursions, since it’s the only one that can seat all of us,” Morgan said. “Besides, why does your mom drive a minivan? She’s only got two kids.”

“He’s got a good point,” Pidge said.

“I mean, Allura has nine cats. Have you ever tried to put nine cat carriers into the back of a car?”

Morgan nodded thoughtfully as he turned into their neighborhood. “That’s fair. So, you guys got another new guy living with you?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s cool,” Pidge said. “He’s got a metal arm.”

“Shit, really? Like, Winter Soldier style?” Morgan whistled. “Sounds cool.”

“I dunno,” Keith said. “Something feels weird about him.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “You sound like you’ve been spending too much time with Hunk.”

“Okay, but have you ever considered that if Hunk is concerned about this guy, maybe he has a good reason? I mean, you know Hunk isn’t going to steer us wrong.”

“Yeah, well, Allura trusts him, and you know Allura wouldn’t let him anywhere near us if he wasn’t trustworthy.”

“Okay but like, it didn’t strike you as strange that he literally rolled in with a suitcase and an air mattress?”

Pidge shook her head. “Hunk is making you paranoid. Next thing I know, you’re going to be walking around wearing a tinfoil hat and carving ‘Illuminati confirmed’ into the bathroom stalls with a pocket knife.”

“Um...dudes?” Morgan cut in. “I hate to interrupt, but, um...you’ve got company.”

Keith and Pidge both turned to look forward. At the end of the road, their driveway was packed full of unfamiliar cars. A quick scan showed that none of them were Coran’s, and Keith knew that the Fae, both Seelie and Unseelie, shunned mortal forms of transportation.

But then...whose cars were they?

“You guys see that one right there?” Morgan pointed to a gleaming white Lexus SUV. “That one belongs to Mrs. Miller. She’s president of the PTO...and Brayden Miller’s mom.”

“Wasn’t he the one Keith scared the shit out of our first day of Bio 2?” Pidge asked.

Morgan nodded. “Oh yeah.”

“You’re fucked,” Pidge remarked to Keith.

Keith scoffed. “She doesn’t scare me.”

“Dude, this woman is like...something else,” Morgan warned, slowing as he approached the end of the driveway. “Like, she makes Jehovah June seem like a reasonable person.”

“So we’re saying she’ll probably tell me I’m going to hell for my filthy heathen ways, then insult my nationality, religion, and sexuality. Possibly throw in a homophobic slur if she’s feeling extra spicy.” Keith shook his head. “Morgan, my gay, First Nations, Wiccan-practicing ass lived in the deep South for six months. This is all nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“You’ve never met a Helen Miller before, either,” Morgan cautioned. “She’s like if...um...like if Donald Trump had a baby with Umbridge from the _Harry Potter_ books, and then they gave that baby up to be raised by the Westboro Baptist Church.”

“That bad, huh?” Pidge asked.

Morgan threw the van in park, turning to look at both Pidge and Keith. “Let me give you an example. You know how Aniyah works down at the Safeway, right?”

Keith nodded; he’d gone down to the Safeway at least twice now and had seen Morgan’s girlfriend running a register.

“Right. Well, whenever Helen goes down there, they always have to have a white cashier on duty, because she will either straight up refuse to checkout and abandon a full cart of groceries, or she will complain to the manager if someone who isn’t white touches her groceries.”

“You can’t be serious,” Pidge said, disgust lacing her voice.

“I wish I wasn’t,” Morgan said. “Aniyah is one of their best cashiers, but this bitch has almost gotten her fired twice. She’ll make up stories, claiming that the cashiers said or did things that never happened...the first time she tried to get Aniyah fired, she told the managers that Aniyah had called her an ‘uppity white bitch’.”

“I mean, from your description, that doesn’t sound too off base,” Keith said. “I wouldn’t blame her for saying that. Hell, I’d probably give her a medal.”

“Aniyah was like, sixteen. What kind of grown-ass woman tries to get a sixteen-year-old girl fired from her job at the grocery store just because she doesn’t like the color of her skin?”

“And you’re telling us that this skank is currently in our house, breathing our air, drinking our water, and using our bathroom?” Pidge asked.

Morgan nodded. “That’s not even the worst she’s done. Mina actually quit her job at Starbucks because Helen would harass her so badly. Like, this woman would stand there while Mina was making her coffee, telling her all these awful transphobic things and just completely destroying her self-esteem. She even dumped her coffee all over Mina one day, then tried to claim it was an accident. She tries to pull that shit on Kai, too, but they’ve stayed there because they just don’t give a fuck.”

“So, racist, transphobic, and probably homophobic as well,” Keith said. “She sounds like a real class act.”

“How the hell did she become PTO president?” Pidge asked.

“Most of the rest of the PTO are friends of hers. Those that aren’t, well, they don’t have the balls to stand up to her. She bullied her way into that position, just like she has with, well, pretty much everything else, according to my mom. They went to grade school together. Helen literally has been like this probably since the day she was brought into this world.”

Keith smirked. “Well...Allura is certainly going to throw her for a loop. Allura has a very low tolerance for bullshit and she doesn’t suffer fools gladly.”

“Well, as fun as it would be to watch Helen have it out with Allura, the idea of going in there with that woman makes my soul shrivel up and die just a bit,” Pidge said. “I vote we fuck off to McDonalds and wait for her to leave.”

“I’d be down for that,” Keith said. “I don’t think anyone’s seen up out here…”

The words had barely left his mouth when both his and Pidge’s phones went off at the same time. Nonplussed, they both pulled out their phones, finding identical messages from Allura:

_I see you out there. Get in here now._

Morgan grimaced. “We’re not going to McDonalds, are we?”

“If we survive this encounter, we’ll get McDonalds to celebrate.” Keith sighed, opening the door and sliding out of the van, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Morgan saluted both of them. “Best of luck.”

He pulled away while they were shuffling their way up to the driveway. Keith looked over his shoulder, watching Morgan’s van rattle away, and wished he could still be in the van. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t heard it all - because he had - but the idea of having to sit there and stomach Helen’s bullshit and remain on his best behavior made him want to blow chunks into the rose bushes he and Pidge had worked so hard to plant around the porch.

Snatches of conversation drifted their way as they opened the front door; Keith and Pidge followed the sounds of voices to the living room.

As soon as they stopped in the doorway, the room went quiet. While Keith spotted a few middle-aged men about, most of the crowd was female. There was something very Stepford Wives-esque about them; with a few notable exceptions, they were all white, blonde, and wearing high-end Lularoe leggings. The end tables were cluttered with Starbucks cups in varying degrees of fullness, and Keith swore he could smell more than one pumpkin spice latte. All that was missing was a dog-eared copy of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ being circulated about the room.

Keith spotted Allura, who looked about as comfortable as he felt. As soon as her eyes landed on him and Pidge, she beckoned the both of them over. They were only a few feet apart when her conversation partner turned around.

That was Helen Miller. Keith could just tell by looking at her. Everything about her screamed alpha female, the head bitch whom everyone else fell in line behind, from her Lularoe leggings with the hypocritical pink hearts to the knife-sharp edge of her blonde “can I speak to the manager” bob. Her scrutinizing baby-blue gaze fell on Keith, and he could feel her taking in every inch of him, from his jet-black hair to his lavender overalls with the black bats to the scuffed bat-wing combat boots and his chipped black nail polish. He crossed his arms over his chest; it probably would have felt much less invasive if Helen had just asked him to undress in front of the entire crowd. He watched her give Pidge a thorough once-over, and then, her pink-painted lips curled into a smile that looked more threatening than welcoming.

“Ah, Allura,” she announced, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “These must be your foster children - although I have to say, I’m having a little trouble telling which one is the son and which one is the daughter.”

Pidge’s cheeks went bright red, and Keith’s stomach folded up and knotted itself. He was used to being told that he looked like a girl and dressed like one too. That didn’t bother him. And he knew Pidge was well aware of the fact that she both looked and dressed like a twelve-year-old boy. But this was beyond a casual misgendering. This was decisive, public...meant to be humiliating. He placed a hand on Pidge’s shoulder, lifting his chin to meet Helen’s gaze.

“Sorry, don’t think we’ve met,” he said. “This is Pidge, my foster sister. I’m Keith.”

“Ah, so _you’re_ Keith,” Helen said. “You must be the same Keith who has Biology II with my oldest son.”

“Maybe.” Keith shrugged. “What’s his name again? Brandon? Brian?”

“It’s _Brayden_ ,” she corrected sharply. “And the things he’s said about you concern me quite a bit.”

“He’s been talking about me? Oh, I’m flattered.” Keith placed a hand to his chest, dropping his chin and fluttering his eyelashes at Helen. “I’m not usually into jocks, but your son certain is a handsome boy…”

Helen’s face flushed bright red, and she sputtered incoherently for a good half-minute, clearly not expecting Keith’s response. If turning the gay up to eleven was what it took to get Helen’s bigoted ass out of their house, well, then, he would lay it on so thick that he would make the queens from _RuPaul’s Drag Race_ look like the manliest men to walk the planet.

“No! No, he hasn’t been saying anything like that!” she finally spit out. “He’s told me that you put a curse on him!”

Allura peered over Helen’s shoulder, a suspicious look on her face, one eyebrow raised in questioning. Neither Keith nor Pidge had ever gotten around to telling her about the incident in Bio II, but apparently, Helen had come to air some dirty laundry. Keith glanced over to Pidge. Her response was to raise both eyebrows at him, as if to say _you were the one who started it, I can’t help you._

“A curse? Me? Just because I’m a practicing Wiccan doesn’t mean I put curses on people for fun,” Keith said, reaching out and putting a hand on Helen’s arm. “We have scruples too, you know. It was just a bit of harmless fortune-telling.”

Helen yanked her arm away from Keith, as if his touch had burned her. “Harmless? You threatened my son!”

“Keith, what is this about?” Allura asked.

“Mrs. Miller, I didn’t threaten him. All I did was tell him what I saw for his future.” Keith stuffed his hands into his pockets, shrugging. “It’s not my fault the things I saw weren’t good.”

“Brayden’s been terrified to go to school ever since!” Helen accused, rounding on Allura and jabbing a perfectly-manicured finger at Keith. Keith rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together to hold back his comment. He’d seen Brayden just that morning; he’d watched as Brayden had walked past Gage Stephens, knocked his belongings out of his arms, and said something to him that was apparently so appallingly horrible that Gage had still been upset about it when they got to lunch. He didn’t have all the details, but he did know it involved a homophobic slur and Gage’s deadname.

 _Yeah. He’s_ really _terrified to go to school,_ Keith thought. _More like terrified he’s going to miss his chance to pick on kids half his size and be a bigoted asshole._

“And it’s all because of this...this..!”

_Oh, go ahead, bitch. What names do you have to call me? I’ve heard them all._

“This _delinquent_ , going around and cursing people..!”

“Keith.” Allura’s voice somehow, miraculously, silenced Helen. She looked calm, but Keith could see it in her eyes - she was pissed. “I think you should go up to your room, while Mrs. Miller and I...talk about some things.”

It was only then, after Allura had spoken, that Keith realized the room was silent. Everyone else had stopped talking in order to watch the drama unfold between him, Helen, and Allura. Even Hunk, standing frozen in the living room’s entryway and balancing a tray of snacks, was watching with wide eyes that were tinged yellow.

There it was. The singling out. Helen wanted everyone in that room to know that he was different. Weird. He’d been stared at, harassed, and called every name in the book, but this? This felt like a new low.

But he wouldn’t give Helen the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten under his skin. He merely took his hands out of his pockets, examining the nails on one hand in a bored fashion.

“Well, Helen, this has been an _enlightening_ conversation, but I should be off. Me and the other delinquents have demons to summon and gay orgies to plan. But enjoy your visit. Try the snacks - that is, if you can stomach the fact that a brown guy prepared your food.”

Helen’s jaw dropped, and Keith was pretty sure that her head might actually explode. Allura, meanwhile, looked ready to strike him down where he stood, and he figured he was already in deep enough shit and had made his point well enough. He put his hands back into his pockets and sauntered towards the stairs, the PTO moms practically diving out of his way. He was almost to the entryway when one of the moms spoke up, her timid voice barely audible, even in the silent room.

“I like your overalls.”

Keith stopped and turned to her, smiling brightly. “Aren’t they great? Allura made them for me. Far better than any pair of overpriced leggings, if you ask me.”

He continued on his way. Hunk was still at the entryway; he snatched what appeared to be some kind of tart with a generous spray of whipped cream on top and popped it into his mouth. Shiro was lingering in the entryway, just behind Hunk, watching the whole spectacle that had just unfolded with wide eyes, uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to the other. On a whim, Keith stretched up on his toes and pressed a kiss to Shiro’s cheek as he walked past, feeling the other man tense up in surprise.

He was definitely going to get it tonight. But the faint thrill of victory that zipped down his spine made it entirely worth it.

* * *

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Pidge smirked from her spot, draped across the foot of Allura’s bed, messing with Verde, who pawed at her fingers. “Jury’s out on that one.”

“Pidge, I really don’t appreciate your commentary,” Allura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.”

“Yeah, who even invited you?” Keith asked. “Or did you come in just to be nosy?”

“Look, I tried to stop you.” Pidge looked over to Allura. “Seriously, I tried to stop him. I told him that reading someone’s future from pig guts in the middle of biology class was a bad idea, but did he listen? Noooo…”

“I don’t recall hearing you protest too loudly when I did it,” Keith told her.

“Funny, I though the death glare and repeated head-desking got my point across very clearly.”

“Yeah, well - !”

“ _Enough!_ ”

A phantom wind blasted through the room, the balcony doors flying open as it did. Allura’s eyes momentarily glowed with blue fire, voice echoing in the small space. Verde yowled in fright, scurrying off the bed and into Allura’s open closet, while Keith and Pidge fell silent instantly. Keith really hoped Allura had put some sort of charm on her bedroom door or something, because otherwise, Hunk and especially Shiro would be wondering exactly what was going on in there…

“Enough, both of you!” Allura snapped, fingers curling into what almost resembled claws. “Just enough, both of you. I can hardly hear myself think with your bickering.”

“I really don’t see what the big deal is,” Keith said with a shrug. “I was bullshitting. Nothing different from what some 90s collect-call psychic would do.”

“First of all, watch your language,” Allura chided. “Second of all, I don’t care if you were quoting a Miss Cleo infomercial word-for-word, there is a vast difference between you and a psychic hotline. They can only claim to predict the future.”

“And me?”

“Keith, you can actually _read_ the future. Divination in any form is not something to be taken lightly, and is _definitely_ not something to be used for a juvenile prank.”

“He called me a freak, Allura. I figured I’d just give him a good reason for it.”

“Really, Keith? You’re almost nineteen. Surely you’re past getting your feelings hurt over simple name-calling.”

“Well maybe I’m not!” Keith snapped, drawing himself to his full height. “Maybe I’m tired of being treated like a freak. Maybe I’m tired of the Helen Millers of the world. You saw the way she spoke to me and Pidge! What was I supposed to do, sit there and take it?”

“Yes!” Allura shouted. “Because sometimes, that’s what grown-ups have to do. Sometimes, we have to just sit there and take what people say to us. It’s part of being an adult.”

“So you’re just going to roll over and let Helen Miller talk shit about the two of us? And I’m just supposed to be a perfect little doormat about it?”

“Keith, you can’t just go around doing whatever you want because someone hurt your feelings,” Allura said. “Suppose she’d figured out what you were? Suppose this was four hundred years ago, and she decided to show up to our doorstep with torches and pitchforks?”

“Allura, this isn’t Salem, and it isn’t 1692. No one gives a shit anymore.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Allura threw up her hands. “Suppose she was Unseelie. Suppose she had connections to the Unseelie Court? Just like that, in one stupid, childish prank, you’ve alerted Empress Honerva about our location, and now, we have to pack up and move again with money we don’t have anymore, or risk something else breaking down our door! All because you decided to act like a selfish child!”

“If me being a ‘selfish child’ means listening to some racist, bigoted bitch try to make me feel like shit because of who I am and what I can do, then I’d rather just go ahead and claim my Fae side, right here, right now, because at least they’ll always support me, no matter who I am!”

Keith drew a breath to continue his angry tirade - because oh, he had a lot more to say - but was cut off by Allura’s hand making solid contact with his face in a slap. The sound of flesh hitting flesh ripped through the room, silencing it as if she’d yelled again. Keith stumbled back, cheek stinging from the slap, the breath knocked out of him as if he’d been punched in the gut. Allura was staring at him with unfocused, too-bright eyes, breathing hard, a high spot of color in her cheeks.

It seemed to hit him at the same moment it hit her. Allura’s eyes went even brighter, tears welling up in them, and she brought a hand to her mouth, taking in a shaky breath.

“Oh...oh my God...Keith...Keith, I...I didn’t mean that, Keith, I...I am so, so sorry…”

Keith could barely hear her voice over the roaring of blood in his ears. The stinging ache in his face, the surprising jolt of the contact, the sound of Allura’s palm against his face...suddenly, he was eleven years old again, cowering in a corner, faced with a shadow that loomed over him, the shadow of a grown man, a thick, leather-bound black book in one hand, the other hand clenched into a fist. Dread made his stomach sink, because he remembered...remembered that the slap had only been the start of it, the slap had turned into something feral and violent, the wrath of a grown man unleashed on a child - and all because he’d found Keith kissing his only friend back behind the shed.

“Keith…”

There was Allura’s hand again, and the sound that came out of him was a thin and ugly one, somewhere between a whimper and a whine. He saw movement from behind Allura; heard Pidge yelling something just as a black-and-brown blur shot towards him. He barely registered the pinpricks of pain that climbed up his leg and bare arm before Hong was on his shoulder, hissing and spitting at Allura.

The rest of Allura came back into focus; her hand outstretched, maybe half a foot from his face, not raised in anger, but concern. She was openly crying now, hesitating as Hong continued to hiss.

The room was too small. He had to get out of there, or he would collapse in on himself like a dying star. He grabbed the doorknob, and, without even looking back at Allura, yanked the door open hard enough that the hinges creaked dangerously.

“Keith, I’m - ” 

He slammed the door before she had a chance to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the names of the cats...
> 
>  _Verde_ \- "Green" in Spanish. Verde is a [Manx cat](https://d2pu2bk1b66iw6.cloudfront.net/photos/2015/05/13/6-102957-manx-cat-standing-1431556057.jpg) who has a strong bond with Pidge.
> 
>  _Hong_ \- "Red" in Chinese. Hong is a [Bengal cat](http://96bda424cfcc34d9dd1a-0a7f10f87519dba22d2dbc6233a731e5.r41.cf2.rackcdn.com/risingsunfarm/ebs-custom/images/bengal-cats-cropped/ref-queens/b-miranda-lambert/miranda_sit_window_lg_1_copy_copy.jpg) who has a strong bond with Keith.
> 
> [Questions or comments? Visit me on Tumblr!](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	9. Fish Out of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new guest makes a splashy arrival at Allura's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To apologize for the wait between chapters (this one took a while to get together), I give you this chapter in all its 7,400+ word glory - and, the moment you've been waiting for, the arrival of a certain boy who has been missing up to this point...

**_Mate is hurt mate is hurt mate is hurt…_ **

It took everything Shiro had in him to keep Kuron from making him rip the door to Allura’s room off its hinges and charge in there.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.

Well, okay, maybe he had. Just a little.

Given the encounter between Keith and Helen earlier that day, and how things had fallen apart after Keith’s departure - Shiro had never seen a grown woman throw a temper tantrum before, but he certainly had now - he’d just been curious. And he’d been on his way downstairs, anyways, when he’d heard Allura’s voice in her room, followed by Pidge and Keith’s.

He’d been there when he’d heard a hand strike flesh. The sound hadn’t even finished reverberating before Shiro was hit with a tidal wave of fear so powerful, it was like getting hit by a bus. Over the roaring of blood in his ears, he’d just barely heard Allura’s voice on the other side of the door.

_“Oh...oh my God...Keith...Keith, I...I didn’t mean that, Keith, I...I am so, so sorry...Keith…”_

What followed was an ugly, awful sound - the sound a dying rabbit made, trapped between the paws of a hungry fox. A sound of fear that spread right into Shiro’s heart, so hard that it actually, physically, hurt.

Keith.

He’d been rooted to the spot by Kuron’s anger, clenching his fists and trying not to take the door apart, when it flung open. Keith burst through the doorway, something large and hissing on his shoulder; Shiro caught a brief flash of Pidge and Allura in the room beyond before Keith slammed the door shut. He whirled around, finding himself face-to-face with Shiro. Beads of blood were welling up on his bare arm, like from the angry brown-and-black cat now perching on his shoulder, but that wasn’t what troubled Shiro. What troubled Shiro was the red mark on Keith’s left cheek, and the terribly vacant expression on his face.

“Keith…” he breathed - but he wasn’t really sure where to go from there. Should he ask if Keith was okay? Apologize for what he heard? Make an excuse as to what he was doing outside of Allura’s bedroom? The hissing cat wasn’t helping; he hid his hands behind his back to conceal the claws that had grown out of his nailbeds, and clenched his teeth to keep from snapping at the cat.

Keith’s eyes met his. His eyes were full of fear - what had happened, to put that fear there?

“M-Mr. Shirogane,” he mumbled, just barely loud enough to be heard. “I’m sorry…”

Before Shiro could ask what Keith was apologizing for, however, Keith half-pushed past him. Shiro turned with enough time to watch him disappear around the corner, and then, a door slammed. Keith’s footsteps pounded up the stairs, and then, music started, something that sounded fast and loud, with lots of drums and heavy guitar riffs.

**_Go after him. Mate is hurt. Go comfort him._ **

Shiro shook his head. While the idea of Keith sitting up there alone and hurting didn’t sit well with him, he also knew that he knew too little about what was going on to adequately offer Keith comfort. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was make the situation worse.

 _“What the fuck is wrong with you?”_ Pidge yelled from the other side of the door. _“Have you lost your goddamn mind?”_

_“I...I made a mistake…”_

_“Yeah, no shit! How could you do that?”_ _  
_

_“I just...I snapped, I honestly just lost it for a minute, I wasn’t even thinking…”_

_“Yeah, I could fucking tell!”_

_“Pidge, I’m so sorry…”_

_“Sorry! You better fucking be sorry! And I’m not the one you should be saying that too!”_

_“Pidge, please…”_

Allura’s bedroom door opened again, and Pidge stormed out, a small cat at her heels. She stomped right past Shiro, as if he were nothing more than a potted plant. She stomped into her room and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the entire thing.

Shiro sighed. Right now, it seemed like the best thing to do would be to make himself scarce.

* * *

The room was dark and the entire house was quiet, but Pidge still couldn’t sleep.

She’d shut herself in her room hours ago, taking out her anger by killing Creepers in Minecraft so that she wouldn’t go back out and rip Allura a new one. Again. When the sun had gone down and the rest of the house had gone quiet and she felt like she wouldn’t bite the head off of the next person she saw, she’d shut down her laptop and climbed into bed, but sleep hadn’t come. That had been a few hours ago, and yet, sleep was still as elusive as it had been.

Her dad had once told her, after some stupid argument with her brother - about what, she couldn’t even remember - that she should never go to bed angry. She was starting to see exactly why he’d said that.

But she was angry.

Sure, Keith was a dumbass, and he should have known there would be consequences to his little stunt in Biology class. But what Allura had done was so far beyond consequences - and she knew better, too. Knew what Keith had been through, before he’d come into her care.

But more than that, Keith was right. Why did they have to roll over to some bitchy PTO mom, just because she’d said heel? Helen Miller was the scummiest, most hypocritical person she’d ever met, and she’d only actually “met” her for maybe a half-hour. The idea that she was allowed to get away with her bullying simply because no one had the balls to stand up to her pissed Pidge off more than she could say.

She rolled over one more time, then gave up, sitting up and throwing her feet over the side of the bed. Clearly, she wasn’t getting any sleep anytime soon. The rest of the house was quiet; she was sure Hunk was asleep, and the new guy, Shiro, probably was too. Allura was likely asleep, but even if she were awake, Pidge didn’t want to talk to her right now. And Keith...well, maybe it was best if she just left him alone for now.

Pidge shuffled to the window and peeked outside. Back home, in upstate New York, she had sometimes gone on midnight walks with her dad and brother, admiring the stars and enjoying being awake while the rest of the world was asleep. Allura had indulged her and Keith with some late-night stargazing, but she had never let either of them - or even the two of them together - out alone late at night, and especially not when they’d lived in Tucson. Allura had always seemed unsettled in Arizona, and after seeing exactly what had broken down the door to their apartment, Pidge kind of understood why.

But they weren’t in Tucson anymore. Their house was on a quiet, suburban street, backed up to the Puget Sound, and was deep in the heart of Seelie territory - and she lived with the heir to the Seelie throne.

Surely, a midnight walk wouldn’t kill her.

The temperature tended to drop into the 50s at night, so Pidge swapped her pajamas for jeans, a tee shirt, a hoodie, and her sturdiest sneakers. She slipped her phone into her pocket, slowly opened the door to avoid creaking hinges, and crept down the hallway, trying to keep her tread light - she hadn’t learned where all the noisy floorboards were yet, and the last thing she needed was to wake up Allura. The narrow halls and staircase were more difficult to navigate in the dark, but she managed to make it downstairs without running into anything or waking anyone up, and slipped out the back door unseen and unheard.

The night was cool, but not cold - at least, not cold compared to the winters Pidge remembered in Rochester. Distantly, she could hear the sound of waves lapping at the shore - they owned that land, all the way down to the water. Pidge stuffed her hands into her pockets for warmth and plodded off in the direction of their stretch of beach, navigating her way across the lawn by the light of the full moon. She carefully picked her way down the steps that had been built into the side of the hill that separated them from the beach, and then wandered down towards the edge of the water. The beach was more rock than sand, and crunched lightly under her feet as she walked. She found a spot by the water’s edge, just far enough back that she wouldn’t get wet from the waves rolling in. Once she’d sat down, she drew her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her chin on her knees.

While she had not complained nearly as loudly or as often as Keith had, she hated all the moving, too. Fitting in was hard enough. Even with her nerd cred, she was still looked at oddly when she tried to sit with the geeks. Fitting in with the knowledge that everyone you made friends with would be forced to forget you in six or so months, however, just made it worse. She was glad that Morgan and his group had accepted her and Keith into their fold, but how long would it be before they were just another group of people whose only memory of her and Keith were “those weird kids who moved from Arizona?”

More than the moving, though, Pidge missed home. Allura was nice enough, and while Keith was a pain in the ass, he was also her ride or die, and when the going got tough, he would always have her back. But she missed home. She missed her mom’s cooking, and her dad’s stories and cliche-but-meaningful life lessons. She missed playing fetch with Cosmo, their dog, in the backyard, and fighting him for a slobbery tennis ball. She missed nerding out with Matt over upcoming video games. She missed _everything._

It had been more than two years now - she’d been placed with Allura shortly after her thirteenth birthday, and was now just seven months shy of her sixteenth - and yet, they were no closer to finding Samuel and Matt Holt. They were lost somewhere deep in the Unseelie Court - and that was if Emperor Zarkon hadn’t “taken care of them” or given them over to his psychotic wife, Empress Honerva, to be used like lab rats. And for the past two and a half years, the coven of Cassiopeia had held Colleen Holt under some Sleeping-Beauty-type-bullshit spell, and likely would have done the same to Pidge if they hadn’t discovered her powers. But, despite their claims that they wanted to help put her family back together, the coven Council had been taking their sweet time doing it.

And now...now, they’d been disavowed. There’d be no more help from the coven. And Keith...he’d idly threatened to Choose before, but he’d never done it for any serious reasons. Hell, the last time he’d told Allura he would Choose, he’d been trying to get out of the Chemistry final in summer school. But tonight, during the argument in Allura’s room...he’d meant it. In her gut, Pidge knew he’d meant it when he threatened to Choose. Their scraped-together family was starting to crumble, and if they weren’t careful, it would fall apart completely. Pidge sniffled, biting her lower lip and trying to blink away the tears stinging her eyes. When that didn’t work, she lifted up her glasses, scrubbed harshly at her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie, and then settled her glasses back on her face.

And that was when she noticed something in the water.

About a hundred yards out, something was sticking up out of the water, its slick, wet surface illuminated by the moonlight. In the dim light, she could make out the shape of it - it was rounded, like a ball, but whatever it was, there was more to it under the water. And whatever it was, she had a distinct feeling it was alive...and staring at her. She slowly reached for her hoodie pocket, where her phone was, torn between trying to use the flashlight app to find out what it was, and at the same time not wanting to scare it off.

And then, all at once, the stillness was broken by someone surfacing in the water, maybe twenty yards out.

Pidge yelped and scrambled to her feet, nearly falling on her ass in her haste to get back from the incoming tide, eyes now fixed on the person in the water. All she could see was a head and a pair of arms, which struggled momentarily before the person dipped back underwater.

She looked up and down the beach. To her knowledge, theirs wasn’t the only property to back up to the beach, but if someone from the neighborhood had, in fact, decided to go for a midnight dip in the Puget Sound, there was no sign of it - no towel, no pile of clothes, nothing. Aside from her, the beach was empty.

 _Why would anyone take a midnight swim at this time of the year, anyways?_ She wondered. It was only about fifty degrees; the water couldn’t have been any more than forty. Did this person have a death wish, or were they just crazy?

They surfaced again, now only about ten yards out and still visibly struggling to stay above water. Pidge looked up and down the beach again, for something she could throw to them, or offer for them to grab on to, muttering “please don’t drown” under her breath repeatedly. The person disappeared again after a few moments of struggling, and Pidge’s heart sank, but then, only thirty seconds later, a wave rushed in - and along with it, the mystery swimmer, who ended up in a crumpled, shivering heap in the rocky sand.

“Shit!” Pidge gasped, hurrying over, grasping desperately at her faint memories of CPR training. Whoever this person was, they may have been out of the water, but they certainly weren’t out of the woods yet., and Pidge knew she couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. She hit the sane knees-first, ignoring the pain of the rocks digging into her flesh through her jeans, and began to push at the mystery swimmer, trying to get enough of a grip on their wet, slippery skin to turn them over. “Come on, come on, roll over, come on…”

The stranger, who had been crumpled and face-first in the sand, suddenly surged up onto their hands and knees, entire body rigid. They heaved once, twice, then brought up a gush of salt water with a godawful retching sound.

“Um, gross,” Pidge commented.

The stranger puked up two more mouthfuls of water, then sat back on their haunches, turning to look at Pidge with wide, dark eyes.

The stranger was a boy, somewhere between her age and Keith’s - it was hard to tell, from his smooth-skinned face. His short, dark hair was plastered to his head, and his skin glowed a soft brown in the moonlight. He blinked dumbly at Pidge, mouth gaping and thin chest heaving slightly.

“Are you...are you okay?” Pidge asked hesitantly.

He flinched away slightly at the sound of her voice, now looking not at her, but up and down the beach. After a moment, he turned back to her. He patted his chest and made panicked noises, but no sound comes out of his mouth.

“Are you...looking for something?” Pidge asked.

He didn’t say anything, just started clambering to his feet from his sitting position, revealing long, lanky legs, and…

“ _Jesus Christ!_ ” Pidge yelped, looking away quickly, feeling her cheeks and ears burn bright red. “Why the fuck are you _naked?!_ You could have warned me first!”

Again, if he noticed her words, he didn’t reply, instead making a few wobbly strides in a circle around Pidge, still making small, distressed noises. He finally turned and looked out to the water;. Pidge followed his gaze and found that, to her surprise, whatever had been watching her before was not only still there, but it had gotten closer. The moon’s light was just bright enough for Pidge to realize that it was a seal, pale gray with a black-speckled skin, its eyes dark and fixed almost directly on the naked human boy.

The noise that tore out of the boy’s throat was ungodly horrible, something between a guttural scream and a gut-wrenching sob. Pidge slapped her hands over her ears as the sound shattered the still night. The boy finally ran out of breath and collapsed back into the sand, entire body shuddering, hands reaching for the seal. The seal stared at him for a long moment, then turned and dove back under the water.

This action broke the boy. Fat tears rolled down his already-wet cheeks, and he broke into heaving, full-body sobs.

“Shit,” Pidge hissed. “Shit shit shit _fuck shit…”_

A solid thirty seconds of mouth-washing-with-a-bar-of-soap worthy cursing did nothing to solve the problem, nor make the boy stop sobbing, so Pidge fisted her hands into her hair, trying to figure out what to do. She had no idea where the boy had come from, or what had happened to him - or if he could understand her. Hell, she had no idea if he could even speak.

He was still sobbing, but his sobs were punctuated by his teeth chattering, and his lips looked a little blue. Pidge could have smacked herself - of course, he was probably freezing. She yanked her hoodie off, ignoring the goosebumps that broke out over her exposed arms, and came over to the boy’s side, tapping him on the shoulder. He started, looking up at her with big, teary eyes.

“Hey,” she said, holding up the hoodie, “hey, you need to put this on. It’s a hoodie. Hood-eeee. You’re gonna get sick out here being all wet and naked.”

He stared at her for a good ten seconds, then sobbed loudly again. Pidge sighed, wondering if this was what parenting was like - and if so, why the hell had her parents decided to do it _twice?_

“Okay. I’m going to put this on you. Okay?”

She knelt in front of him, trying to ease the hoodie over his wet hair. He made the same awful, guttural noise as he had earlier, trying to scramble away from Pidge - which, unfortunately, made certain body parts move, and she was already uncomfortable enough without being reminded that this guy was buck-ass naked. As she tussled with him over trying to get the hoodie on, her phone came tumbling out the hoodie’s pocket, landing with a clatter in the rocky sand.

“Dude! Be careful with that!” She snatched her phone from off the ground, wiping it clean as the guy tried to wrestle his way out of the hoodie. She looked down at her phone in contemplation, then up at the house. Whatever had happened, wherever this guy had come from, she couldn’t leave him alone - and she couldn’t reign him in and get him back up to the house by herself.

She unlocked her phone, biting her lower lip as she looked at the house. Hunk was asleep. She didn’t know Shiro well enough to wake him up and ask him to help her. And she still didn’t want to particularly interact with Allura.

Which left one option…

[New text message: Keith]

[I need ur help]

“Come on, come on…” she mumbled, looking desperately back and forth between her phone and the house.

[I know ur awake answer ur phone i stg]

[KEITH]

[ANSWER UR PHONE]

[ASSHOLE]

A splashing sound caught her attention. While she’d been trying to get a hold of Keith, the boy had not only taken Pidge’s hoodie off and thrown it into the path of an incoming wave, but he’d gotten back to his feet and was staggering into the water, making loud, unintelligible noises that made her think of a bad Chewbacca impersonation.

“Are you crazy?” Pidge yelled, pocketing her phone and running after him, surging into the path of the waves. A rush of water washed over her feet, soaking through her sneakers and socks instantly, and she bit back a yelp. In regards to the water temperature, forty had been wishful thinking. Gritting her teeth, she slogged through the waves, catching the boy by the wrist. “Get out of the water!”

His response was another loud half-sob, half-scream. He tried to pull away, but his legs chose that moment to give out, and Pidge managed - just barely - to drag him out of the water. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to read it.

[Received text message: Keith]

[jfc it is 2 am wtf]

Not trusting the boy to stay put if she let go of his wrist, she picked back a series of messages one-handed:

[New text message: Keith]

[can’t explain]

[down @ beach]

[pls help]

[bring blanket]

Keith didn’t respond, but up at the house, she saw the lights come on on the third floor, and she let loose a very long, very relieved sigh.

Pidge spent the next few minutes making sure the boy didn’t try to crawl back to the water again - he didn’t quite make it in, but he definitely did try -  and contemplating whether her feet would be colder with her soaked shoes on or off. Finally, as she was peeling off her drenched socks, she heard the sound of footsteps on the wooden steps leading down to the beach. Keith was there; he had thrown an oversized, ratty-looking zip-up jacket on over his pajamas and yanked on a pair of combat boots. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, a rolled-up quilt slung over his shoulder, and took in the scene with wide eyes and eyebrows raised to his hairline: Pidge, now sans hoodie, socks, and shoes, circling agitatedly around the naked, blubbering mystery swimmer in order to keep him from going back into the water.

“Um...what the actual fuck?”

“Look, he just washed up on the beach, he won’t talk to me, he’s naked, wet, and keeps trying to run back into the water.”

“And I’m supposed to know what to do with him?”

“We need to get him back up to the house, at least,” Pidge said. “He’s taller than me - ”

Keith snorted. “That’s not hard.”

“ - And he’s about as sturdy on his feet as a newborn giraffe. So are you gonna help me or not?”

“Do I really have a choice?”

Pidge made a face at him. Keith held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“All right, just asking.”

He stepped down onto the rocky sand, approaching the boy, who had slumped back to the ground. Keith knelt down next to him and tapped him on the shoulder, making him start.

“Hey there. My name’s Keith, and - ” The boy flailed and squirmed away, and Keith pulled a face. “ - And that is your dick. Okay. So that’s why we needed the blanket.”

“I thought you were into that sort of thing.”

“Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I particularly want to see some stranger’s junk just flailing out in the open. I have _some_ class.”

He turned back to their mystery swimmer, unfolding the quilt. “All right, come here. We’re gonna wrap you up in this and take you can up to the house. Okay?”

He stepped forward, and the boy cried out, attempting to scuttle back into the water. Pidge darted forward, managing to cut him off, but running right into the incoming tide, getting her bare feet soaked by the cold water. The boy scrambled back in a wobbly crab-walk, but could only keep it up for maybe a minute before he tripped over his hands and fell flat on his ass. Keith pounced, tossing the blanket over the boy while he was too stunned to move, then quickly tucking in the ends as the boy tried to squirm out of it. In the end, the boy was tightly swaddled in the quilt, looking like a sad, soggy burrito. Keith heaved the blanket-wrapped boy over his shoulder and started for the house. Grumbling and cursing under her breath, Pidge started gathering up her wet shoes and socks, then retrieved her now tide-soaked hoodie. She was about to follow Keith up to the house when something glinted out of the corner of her eye; a glass bottle was nestled in the sand, just at the edge of the water line, a tightly-furled paper stuffed inside. She was pretty sure that hadn’t been at the tide line a moment ago. Wondering if it was somehow connected to the mysterious boy and the disappeared seal, she darted out, grabbed it before the tide rushed back in, and hurried after Keith, tucking the bottle in the crook of her elbow.

“Alright,” she panted as she finally caught up with Keith, “we finally got him.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Now, what do we do?”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but my knowledge of first-aid training comes from tenth-grade health class, and I’m pretty sure I fell asleep in that class.” Keith looked up at the house, lips pursed in a thin line. “I think we’re going to need Allura’s help on this one.”

Pidge stopped in her tracks for a moment, then scrambled to catch up with Keith again. “Are you serious?”

“Look, Pidge, this guy washed up on the beach with nothing to identify himself. I’m not sure if he can even speak, let alone if he can speak English. He could be injured, or in serious trouble, and we’d have no way of knowing. This is out of our depth. We’re going to need Allura’s help.”

“After what happened earlier? After what she did?”

Keith rounded on Pidge, his one hand curling tightly into the quilt and tipped with sharp nails. “I know what she did, Pidge! I don’t fucking need to be reminded!”

He fell silent for a moment, and Pidge wisely followed suit. Even the boy in the blanket was silent. Finally, he took a deep breath, blew it out, and used his free hand to futilely shove his bangs out of his face.

“What happened is for me and Allura to work through. And it’s not this guy’s problem, nor should it affect how he gets helped. We’re going to need her help, no matter how angry or hurt either of us might be.”

Pidge frowned. “There’s...got to be something else…”

She thought Keith might snap at her again, but he just shook his head ruefully. “Well, I don’t know if your grimoire is different from my Book of Shadows, but half my damn book is empty, and all that’s in there are the simple spells Allura taught us both. So unless you can figure out a way to get ahold of Allura’s grimoire without her noticing, we don’t really have much of a choice but to ask for her help. And good luck getting her grimoire, because she’s more possessive of that thing than Gollum is of the One Ring…”

They had reached the patio, and were maybe five feet from the doors that led into the den when they swung open of their own accord. The lights in the den flickered on, and, just beyond the doorway, Keith and Pidge could see Allura, hair wrestled back into a single braid, still in her nightgown, waiting for them.

“A-Allura?” Pidge sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“I heard one of you coming down the stairs,” Allura began, arms folded across her chest, not angry or ready to admonish, but...defensive, meant to protect. “I thought...I thought something was…”

Keith and Pidge exchanged heavy looks. She thought one of them was running away. Once they’d dealt with the mysterious boy, they were probably all due for an actual conversation, not the screaming match they’d had earlier.

“Pidge texted me,” Keith said. “She was down at the beach. She...found someone…”

He turned slightly, so Allura could see the head of the boy, sticking out of the quilt bundle. He seemed to have stopped sobbing and making the godawful Chewbacca noises he’d been making on the beach, but he was shivering hard enough that Keith could feel it through the quilt. Allura’s eyes widened.”

“Oh my God!”

“He was in the water,” Pidge explained as Allura ushered them inside, directing Keith to put the boy on the couch - careful, she noticed, not to actually touch Keith, hands hovering above his arm and back instead. She took the bottle from the crook of her arm, holding it up for Keith and Allura to see. “I found this at the edge of the water.”

“What’s that?” Keith asked, gently depositing the boy on the couch. Allura moved to unwrap the quilt, but Keith shook his head. “I, um...would leave that on.”

Allura raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He doesn’t have anything else on.”

Allura’s eyes went wide, and she let go of the quilt as if it had burned her. “Right. Um...could you go make our new guest some tea while I try to figure out where he came from?”

Keith shot her a dubious look. “You want me to try to make tea?”

Allura thought about it for a minute, then shook her head. Her gaze traveled over to Pidge, but then she wrinkled her nose, shaking her head again.

“I could go make tea.”

Everyone jumped at the sound of the new voice, and the mysterious swimmer nearly fell off of the sofa. Behind them, at the stairs that led both up to the second floor and down to the basement, stood Hunk, twisting the hem of his pajama shirt in his hands.

“Hunk, what are you doing up?” Allura asked.

“I heard a commotion up here,” Hunk said. “Kinda looks like you guys could use a hand. And he’s pretty shaken up.” He gestured to the boy. “I think I’ve got just the thing.”

Keith nodded. “Thanks, Hunk.”

Hunk gave him a thumbs-up, heading for the kitchen. Allura, Pidge, and Keith all turned their attention back to the boy on the couch.

“Did you find out what happened to him?” Allura asked. “Or what his name is?”

Pidge shook her head. “He can’t talk, I don’t think. He just makes a lot of really awful noises. Like a Wookie with an upset stomach.”

“I don’t think he can understand us, either,” Keith said. “I tried to tell him I was going to wrap him in the quilt and he just freaked out.”

“He did the same thing with my hoodie,” Pidge said, gesturing to her hoodie, which now lay in a pile with her shoes and socks at the door.

Allura nodded, studying the boy for a long moment. She raised a hand, circling the air just in front of the boy’s face, slowly but confidently. She touched the tip of her index and middle fingers to his left temple.

“ _Loquere_ ,” she breathed, moving to touch his right temple. “ _Audi_ .” She finally landed in the center of his forehead. “ _Cognosce._ ”

The lights in the room flickered slightly, and both Keith and Pidge could smell the metallic tang of magic in the air, feel the atmosphere crackling with it. The boy went tense for the longest moment, and then relaxed, slumped forward slightly, shaking his head several times as though trying to clear water from his ears. After a moment, he looked at Allura with wide, sapphire-blue eyes.

“ _What did you do to me?_ ”

“It worked!” Allura exclaimed triumphantly.

This information didn’t seem to calm the boy down any. He looked around the room, staring Pidge, Allura, and Keith directly in the face long enough for each of them to be unsettled by it. A moment later, Hunk came in, a mug cupped in his hands. The boy’s attention flickered to him, eyes following Hunk’s movements as he approached, then got down on his knees, putting them at eye-level.

“Hey,” Hunk began softly, “you look pretty cold. Do you want some tea? This will help warm you up.”

The boy eyed Hunk for a long moment, and then, long brown fingers appeared from the depths of the quilt, wrapping around the mug. The boy’s eyes went wide - not in fear, but in fascination. His lips parted slightly.

“Ooooh,” he breathed.

“Yeah?” Hunk asked. “Go on, have some. It’s a special blend.”

The boy nodded, taking the mug and bringing it to his lips. He sipped, slow and deliberate, but with a very loud slurp. After a sip which had to last about a minute, where the only sound was his slurping, he lowered his mug.

“Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” Allura assured him. “My name is Allura Lyon. You’re at my house.”

He looked around again. “How did I get in here?”

“We carried you in,” Keith said, jerking a thumb at Pidge.

“I found you, down at the beach,” Pidge said. “You kinda...washed in with the tide.”

“What’s your name?” Allura asked.

“Lance,” the boy answered. “Everyone calls me Lance.”

“Lance,” Allura repeated with a nod. “Okay. Good. Where did you come from, Lance?”

“Yeah, what were you doing in the water?” Pidge asked. “You know it’s like, really cold outside, right?”

“I...I don’t remember it very well…” Lance said. “There was a lot of arguing, and then...my family traveled. The water got colder as we traveled. And...Marco left, then...then Luis, then Veronica...then Dad, and it was just me and Mom…”

He looked over to the window. Distantly, the waters of the Puget Sound glimmered in the moonlight, calm and quiet.

Lance’s reaction was explosive. One second, he was staring wide-eyed at the water, mug of tea in hand. The next, the mug of tea had gone flying; a quick incantation from Allura froze it in midair to keep it from making a mess all over the floor. Lance ripped the quilt off and charged to the window, pounding at it with his fist, dragging blunt fingernails over the glass.

“ _Mom!_ ” he screamed. “ _Mom! Mom come back! Please! Come back!_ ”

“Lance!” Allura hurried over, followed closely by Pidge and Hunk. Keith brought up the rear, dragging the quilt with him.

“ _Mom, please! I’m sorry! Please come back!_ ”

“Lance, what’s going on?” Allura asked. “Lance, please talk to us!”

Lance didn’t respond to Allura, instead sobbing and keening at the window. Pidge’s eyes narrowed as she remembered how he’d reacted down at the beach, when he’d watched that seal swim away...similar to how he was crying and keening now...

_It couldn’t be...could it?_

“Pidge!” Allura called out. “Could you please do something?”

“What do you want me to do?” she hollered, watching as Allura and Keith attempted to wrangle Lance back into the quilt. Hunk was trying to calm him, but his words were falling on deaf ears as Lance fought his way out of Keith’s and Allura’s grasps.

“Aren’t you the one studying mind control?!” Keith yelled. “Now would be a good time to use it!”

“Do you know how morally dubious that is?” Pidge called back. “Lance can’t consent to that in this state!”

“No one consents to being mind-controlled! It’s either that or we club him upside the head, your choice!”

“This is on you if he gets mad at me about it!” Pidge pointed at the back of Lance’s head. “ _Impero!_ ”

All at once, Lance went silent, tension bleeding out of him to leave him limp and pliant. Keith managed to wrap the quilt back around him, and when his knees started to give way, Hunk scooped him up and carried him back to the sofa. Allura managed to retrieve the mug that Lance had flung, and was even able to magic the tea back into it. She gave it to Hunk, who pressed it into Lance’s hands.

“Here you go,” he said. “Have some more tea.”

Lance didn't move. Hunk frowned, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Hello?”

“He won’t respond,” Pidge said, coming over to sit on the floor in front of Lance. “At least...he won’t respond to anyone but me.”

“ _Impero_ is not a spell to be used lightly,” Allura added, taking a seat on Lance’s other side. “As you can see, it gives the caster a tremendous amount of power over the person the spell is cast upon. In the wrong hands, it’s a very dangerous spell indeed.”

“Whoa,” Hunk murmured. “Remind me never to piss Pidge off.”

“This is the first time I’ve ever successfully cast it,” Pidge said. “Lance, drink your tea.”

Lance raised the mug and drank from it, his movements stiff, like he was a puppet on a string. Pidge made a face.

“I don’t like this.”

“It was the only thing I could think of that would make him stop screaming long enough to tell us what happened,” Keith said.

“It was a good suggestion in the heat of the moment,” Allura gently praised.

Pidge turned back to Lance. “We’re going to undo the spell. But you can’t start screaming when we do, okay? We just want to try to help you. Okay?”

Lance nodded dully. Pidge got up on her knees, passing a hand in front of Lance’s face.

“ _Finite._ ”

All the tension returned to Lance’s frame, but he didn’t scream or bolt for the windows again. Instead, he sighed, curling in on himself slightly.

“I’m trapped here.”

“No, of course not!” Allura insisted. “If you don’t want to stay here, you don’t have to…”

“No, not...not here, but...here,” Lance said, making a sweeping gesture. “On land.”

“I...I don’t understand,” Hunk said. “What do you mean, on land?”

“I think I know.” Allura gently touched Lance’s shoulder. “You’re a selkie, aren’t you?”

He nodded, his lower lip quivering.

“So that seal I saw earlier,” Pidge said, things finally clicking into place, “that...was your mom, wasn’t it?”

This time, Lance’s lip didn’t just quiver; a sob warbled out of him, fat tears rolling down his face. Keith opened his mouth, wanting to ask how Lance had ended up on the beach and without his skin, but Allura held up her free hand. The hand that rested on Lance’s shoulder glowed with a soft blue light, and Allura closed her eyes, slowly breathing in. As she did, Lance’s sobs calmed, quieting slowly, his eyelids closing. A moment later, he sagged against Hunk, sound asleep.

“If he’s a selkie,” Keith asked, after a moment’s silence, “what is he doing on land? And without his skin?”

“Hold up, I’m still a little behind,” Hunk said. “What exactly is a selkie?”

“Um...short version, kind of like a mermaid, but a seal instead of a fish,” Pidge said.

“They can shed their seal form like a coat,” Keith added. “And then put it back on again. Which means that when Lance washed up on the beach, there should have been a sealskin with him.”

“He said he was trapped here,” Pidge said. “Do you think it’s...some kind of punishment?”

“I don’t know.” Keith’s eyes fell on the sealed bottle, abandoned on a side table. “But I’ll bet whatever’s in that bottle could tell us.”

He started to stand, but the bottle drifted up off the table, soaring across the room into Allura’s hand.

“I’ll take care of whatever’s in here,” she insisted. “I want you three to take care of Lance. Until we figure out what happened, he should remain here. Hunk, take him upstairs to the hall bathroom and towel him dry the best you can. Keith, he’s closest in size to you, so see if you can scrounge up something for him to wear until we can get him some proper clothes. Pidge, until we can get him set up in the spare room, he’ll have to use the second bed in your room. Can you go get that set up for him...and make sure to close the curtains in your room. Especially for the window that faces towards the water. Do you three think you can handle all that?”

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk nodded, and, given Allura’s no-nonsense, business-like tone, set to their assigned tasks right away. Hunk gathered Lance’s blanket-wrapped form and headed up the stairs, Keith and Pidge following close behind. Finally alone, Allura uncorked the bottle and carefully turned it upside-down, tipping the letter out into her lap. She set the bottle aside and unfurled the letter...only to find it blank on both sides. She dragged her index finger down the page.

“ _Appare._ ”

Nothing happened. She pursed her lips.

“Not giving up your secrets so easily, are you?”

She snapped her fingers. A small silver knife appeared in her hand; with only a split-second’s hesitation, she pricked the tip of her index finger, watching blood bead up on her skin. She squeezed her finger, waiting with bated breath as a fat drop of blood grew on her flesh, then fell, splattering on the paper.

 _"Appare._ ”

The effect was instantaneous. Ink exploded across the page, and Allura swore she could smell the tang of salt water and hear the crash of the ocean’s waves. When all was said and done, she was left holding a letter, written in flowing script that reminded her of the path of a river through a valley.

_Dearest Allura,_

_I do hope this does not come as too much of an intrusion, but I find myself in the middle of a desperate situation, and rather short on options. Your mother owed me a favor, but your temperament is better suited to handle a matter such as this._

_The kingdom is in an uproar, and unfortunately, the root cause of this upheaval is the boy Leandro - better known as Lance. He is the youngest of his pod, and as such, there’s been a certain laxness in disciplining him. His behavior, however juvenile, was forgivable and harmless until a fortnight ago, where he disclosed to both my daughter Plaxum and a number of her retainers that my own loving husband has been carrying on an affair with an Unseelie servant._

_Blaytz, as you can imagine, is furious. The rookery was on the verge of all-out civil war for nearly a week, until a verdict was passed. As Lance has not yet reached his majority, he was allowed to live. He has been banished, however. He is at the age where most of our kind take their Drawdown, so it has been decided that his banishment will also serve as his Drawdown. At the end of one year’s time, Blaytz and I will revisit and determine whether we feel he has matured into a proper adult and a truly loyal member of the rookery. In the meantime, Lance’s skin will remain within the kingdom, and he is to spend this entire year as a human. His skin will remain sequestered in my personal chambers, under lock, key, and guard. No harm will come to his skin while it is under my care._

_I understand that this is an imposition of the highest degree, and apologize for having to call on you to repay the favor owed by your mother. While I love Nimue dearly, I also recognize that her temperament is ill-suited for a situation such as Lance’s - or, indeed, for a young man such as Lance. He needs a firm, guiding hand, but also a hand that can offer him comfort in the trying days ahead. Additionally, I feel that him spending time with your own two wards will ease Lance’s transition to life on land, while also helping him to learn how to act like an adult, not a spoiled child. As a show of my immense thanks and gratitude, a generous stipend will be provided for each lunar cycle, to assist in Lance’s care. I will send a messenger to the water’s edge with my provisions at each new moon._

_Guide him well, daughter of Merlin._

_With many thanks and best regards,_

_Her Royal Highness, Luxia, Sovereign of the Waters_

Allura calmly rolled the letter up, setting it next to the bottle it had come in. She took a deep breath through her nose, snapping her fingers. A bottle of wine and a single glass appeared on the table next to her; she took the bottle, considered the glass, and then looked back at the bottle instead, uncorking it with a snap of her fingers.

“Hecate help us all,” she breathed, before taking a very long drink directly from the bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the spells used in this chapter are Latin-based, which was...interesting, to say the least, since I didn't learn Latin. Thank God for Google, but if anyone with more exposure to the language has any corrections, please just let me know. Googling and my own knowledge of conjugations only does so much.
> 
> Some of Allura (and Pidge's) spells:
> 
> "Loquere, audi, cognosce" - "Speak, listen, understand." Intended to be a universal translation spell  
> "Impero" - "I command." Similar to the Imperious Curse from Harry Potter, it gives the caster control over the subject of the spell. Kinda shady, tbh.  
> "Finite" - "End." Ends the effects of a cast spell.  
> "Appare" - "Appear, reveal." Meant to reveal hidden objects, text, etc.
> 
> Allura can perform both verbal and nonverbal spells because of her age and how long she's been honing her magic. Pidge can only perform verbal spells.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Don't forget that you can [find me on Tumblr!](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	10. You Call It Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some conversations are had, some are overheard, and some people are just not having a good night.

“What do you think that letter said?”

Hunk was in the middle of toweling Lance dry - a task made complicated by the fact that Lance was asleep, and had ended up with Hunk propping him against the sink cabinets to keep him sitting up. Looking up, he found Keith standing in the doorway of the bathroom with clothes draped over his arm.

Hunk shrugged. “I mean, I’m guessing it’s some kind of explanation as to how he got here, but outside of that...no idea.”

“Hmm.” Keith put the clothes on the counter, leaving against it, watching Hunk rub the towel vigorously over Lance’s hair. He didn’t even stir.

“Do selkies usually come on land?” Hunk asked.

“It depends,” Keith said. “Some like coming on land, some hate it. A selkie as young as Lance, though, likely wouldn’t be allowed up on land, unless he’s up here for his Drawdown.”

“Drawdown?”

“You know, like a Rumspringa?”

Hunk stared blankly. 

“Right, there’s probably not a lot of Amish people in American Samoa,” Keith said. “Basically, Amish teens do this thing called a Rumspringa, where they get to go and live on their own for a year and do whatever crazy shit they want to do, and then at the end of that year, they can choose whether or not they want to come back to the Amish community. Selkies basically do the same thing during their Drawdown - they spend a year on land to see whether they like it better than living in the ocean.”

“And then what?” Hunk asked. “Is it like, you have to choose? Land or water and there’s no in-between?”

Keith shrugged. “I’m not really sure. Lance would probably know, but...maybe we should keep that sort of talk to a minimum for a few days. He seemed pretty upset.”

Hunk nodded. “Yeah. Can you help me get him dressed?”

“I guess,” Keith sighed. “I’ve seen this dude’s junk at least half a dozen times tonight, what’s one more time?”

“I mean, I didn’t think that would bother you…”

“Why does everyone assume I like staring at random dude’s dicks just because I’m gay? I’m not a total slut!”

“Oh shut up, yes you are.” Pidge appeared at the door with a shit-eating grin on her face. “You’ve had nine boyfriends in the two years I’ve lived with you.”

“Okay, well, one, I had to get a new boyfriend every time we moved because Allura keeps erasing my boyfriends’ memories.”

“You had three boyfriends in Colorado! We were only there for four months!”

“And two, I can’t help that guys think I’m a cute little twink and want to get in my pants. It’s the Fae genes.”

Hunk unfolded the shirt that Keith had brought down - a My Chemical Romance tee, which got an eye roll from Pidge - and tugged it over Lance’s head. “Yeah, can one of you come hold his arms or something? He’s really hard to maneuver when he’s asleep.”

Keith knelt on the floor, and they managed to get the tee shirt and a pair of boxers onto Lance. While they were wiggling his limp lower body into the sweatpants Keith had carried down, he noticed that Hunk kept looking up at something behind him.

“What?” Keith asked.

“How did he sleep through all that?”

“Who?” Keith turned to look, then realized whose door it was that Hunk had been staring at. “Oh, Shiro? I don’t know. He must be a really heavy sleeper.”

“You sure he’s not dead in there?” Pidge asked with a smirk. 

“I don’t even think a dead guy could have slept through Lance’s racket, to be honest. He was pretty damn loud.”

Hunk kept frowning at Shiro’s door. Pidge shook her head.

“What is with you and Shiro?”

“What do you mean, what’s with us?”

“You keep acting like he’s given you some reason not to trust him,” Pidge said. “But he’s been nothing but a totally cool dude since he got here.”

“I…” Hunk faltered, and a look passed over his face - a look like he was strongly considering saying something that neither of them knew. After a moment, he shook his head. “Just, he...he’s a little strange.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re all a little strange,” Pidge remarked.

“I know, but...do you guys ever get the feeling he’s hiding something?”

“Aren’t we all?” Keith asked.

“That was surprisingly deep of you,” Pidge said.

Keith shrugged. “I am vast. I contain multitudes.”

“Neeerrrrrrd.”

“Look, I know English class bores you, but I think the Transcendentalists were onto something,” Keith said. “I, too, would like to go fuck off to a cabin in the middle of the woods for two years and have everyone leave me the hell alone.”

“You guys are missing my point,” Hunk said. “I know we’re all kind of hiding something, but we can at least be ourselves here, in this house, right? But I think Shiro’s still hiding something from us.”

“Well, have you told him about being a werewolf?”

“What? No!”

“And I’m assuming you haven’t said anything about being a witch, huh, Pidge?”

She shook her head.

“And I haven’t said anything about being the heir to the Seelie throne,” Keith said. “So really, none of us are being particularly honest. Besides, what’s the worst thing Shiro could be hiding from us?”

There was a clatter, suddenly, like something being dropped or walked in to...and it came from the direction of Shiro’s room. Keith, Pidge, and Hunk all froze, exchanging looks with each other.

“You h-heard that, right?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “That was weird.”

“I don’t think he’s asleep in there,” Hunk said.

“Okay, if he wasn’t asleep in there, I think we would have realized that by now,” Pidge said.

“What makes you so sure?” Hunk asked.

“Because he probably would have opened the door and kindly asked us to shut the fuck up if he weren’t,” Keith said. “That’s what I do when people wake me up.”

“You don’t ask nicely,” Pidge told him.

“What if he’s been listening this whole time?” Hunk said. “And what we just said..?”

Keith got up from his spot on the floor and crept out of the bathroom, heading for Shiro’s door.

“Keith! What are you doing?!” Pidge hissed.

He closed his hand around the knob on Shiro’s door, then gently twisted it, pushing the door open with bated breath. The room beyond was dark, the light from the bathroom just enough to see by. Shiro’s inflatable mattress was pushed up against one wall, and there was Shiro, sound asleep on the mattress with his back to Keith. His breathing was slow and even. Keith stepped aside slightly.

“Looks asleep to me,” he said, before gently pulling the door shut. “Like...I get where you’re coming from, Hunk, but...I mean, we’re all kind of hiding something. I don’t think we’re really in any danger from him.”

“Finally,” Pidge breathed.

Keith frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I told you he was nothing to worry about. I thought I was going to have to break out the tinfoil hats for the two of you.”

“I’ll tell you exactly what you can do with that tinfoil hat, egghead.”

“Egghead? That’s the best you can come up with, you Dollar Store Edgar Allan Poe knockoff?”

Hunk sighed, gathering up the now dry and dressed Lance and carrying him to Pidge’s room, while she and Keith continued to squabble in the bathroom. He gently tucked Lance into the spare bed, wincing as he heard a high-pitched squeal coming from the bathroom, afraid that Lance would startle awake and start crying all over again. But no, Lance slept on - Allura had really put him under. He gave Lance a rueful smile.

“You are so lucky to be asleep.”

* * *

 

Shiro had woken to the sounds of screaming.

He’d bolted upright, teeth bared and nails tearing gouges in his blanket, thinking the worst - they were being robbed, they were under attack, something bad was happening. It took a moment for the sleepy fog to clear from his brain enough to realize that the screams were not ones of terror, but rather ones of sadness.

He had rolled off his air mattress and crept out into the hallway. The door to Keith’s attic room was open, and he could see light spilling down the stairs. Further down the hall, at the top of the stairs that led to the first floor, he could see that Allura’s door was open, and a lamp on her bedside table was on. Pidge’s door was open, although her lights were off. He could hear her downstairs, though, along with Keith, Hunk, Allura, and the weepy voice of a newcomer, which faded out.

“I’ll take care of whatever’s in here,” Allura said. “I want you three to take care of Lance. Until we figure out what happened, he should remain here. Hunk, take him upstairs to the hall bathroom and towel him dry the best you can. Keith, he’s closest in size to you, so see if you can scrounge up something for him to wear until we can get him some proper clothes. Pidge, until we can get him set up in the spare room, he’ll have to use the second bed in your room. Can you go get that set up for him...and make sure to close the curtains in your room. Especially for the window that faces towards the water. Do you three think you can handle all that?”

Shiro only had about a moment to marvel Allura’s efficiency in delegating tasks before he heard three people approaching the stairs - likely Keith, Pidge, and Hunk, with their new mystery guest in tow. He rushed back to his room, moving as quickly and light-footedly as he could, However, curiosity still had the best of him, so as soon as he had closed his door, he pressed an ear to it, listening as footsteps pounded up the stairs to Keith’s room, and another set padded to the bathroom. There was a few long minutes of silence, in which Shiro contemplated dragging his ass back to his mattress, curiosity be damned, but then, he heard footsteps pound back down the stairs, followed by Keith speaking.

“What do you think the letter said?”

“I mean, I’m guessing it’s some kind of explanation as to how he got here,” Hunk replied, “but outside of that, no idea.”

“Hmm.”

“Do selkies usually come on land?”

Selkies. Shiro swore he had heard that term before; he’d been using the abundance of time he now had on his hands to delve deep into lore about the Fair Folk, in an attempt to maybe figure out where Keith’s allegiance lay, and who he should turn to in order to break the marriage bond. He crept across his bedroom, grabbing his phone from where it sat charging and turning on the flashlight, to illuminate the stack of books on his desk. He carefully took them down, rifling through each one of them, trying to remember exactly where he’d found that mention of selkies. He cracked open a slim, teal-colored volume that had been in the middle of the pile - titled  _ Mermaids: The Myths, Legends, and Lore _ \- and skimmed through the books until his flashlight illuminated a page with a picture of a seal printed in teal ink. The headline of the page simply read “The Selkies.”

> _ “According to legend, the selkies or “seal wives” don the skins of seals that let them navigate the waters surrounding Britain and Ireland. When they decide to come ashore, they remove their sealskins and shapeshift into human beings - men as well as women, for both sexes exist among the selkies... _
> 
> _...Most selkies only stay on land for short periods of time and establish close, personal connections with only one human at a time. Often that person - even if he’s married to a selkie - doesn’t realize his mate’s true identity. Selkies must keep their sealskin safely hidden while on land, for without their magic pelts the selkies can’t return to the sea.” _

“Why does everyone assume I like staring at random dudes’ dicks ust because I’m gay? I’m not a total slut!”

That was Keith. The book on mermaids still in hand, Shiro crept back to the door, pressing his ear to it.

“Oh shut up, yes you are,” Pidge said. “You’ve had nine boyfriends in the two years I’ve lived with you.”

_ Nine boyfriends in two years? _ Shiro hadn’t even been on a date in two years, much less had a significant other. Or nine.

“Okay, well, one, I had to get a new boyfriend every time we moved because Allura kept erasing my boyfriends’ memories.”

“You had three boyfriends in Colorado! We were only there for four months!”

“And two, I can’t help that guys think I’m a cute little twink and want to get in my pants. It’s the Fae genes.”

Shiro heard Hunk grunt and say something to Pidge and Keith, but he had stopped listening, hung up on one thing - the fact that Keith had said he was not only interested in men, but dated them exclusively. He could feel Kuron’s presence as much as if the damn spirit was standing behind him. He swore he could even feel the press of phantom claws into his shoulders.

**_I don’t know what a twink is,_ ** Kuron purred.  **_But he’s certainly right about the cute part. And about wanting to get into his pants._ **

_ This doesn’t change anything, _ Shiro said.  _ I’m still getting the marriage bond broken. _

Kuron chuckled, making Shiro shiver as he swore he felt warm breath on his neck. 

**_You just keep telling yourself that._ **

"What is it with you and Shiro?”

**_They’re talking about us,_ ** Kuron remarked as Shiro pressed his ear to the door again.

_ Not us. Me. They don’t know about you, and I intend to keep it that way. _

“What do you mean, what’s with us?” Hunk asked.

**_He knows._ **

_ Well, I don’t intend for anyone else to find out about you. _

“You keep acting like he’s given you some reason not to trust him,” Pidge said. “But he’s been nothing but a totally cool dude since he got here.”

“I…” Hunk was quiet for a minute, then continued. “Just...he...he’s a little strange.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re all a little strange,” Pidge said. That caught Shiro by surprise - he knew, of course, that Keith and Hunk were not human, but Pidge had never shown any signs of being anything but. 

“I know, but do you guys ever get the feeling he’s hiding something?”

**_Told you we should have eaten his liver._ **

“Aren’t we all?” Keith asked.

“That was surprisingly deep of you,” Pidge said.

“I am vast. I contain multitudes.”

“Neeerrrrrrd.”

“Look, I know English class bores you, but I think the Transcendentalists were on to something. I, too, would like to go fuck off to a cabin in the middle of the woods for two years and have everyone leave me the hell alone.”

“You guys are missing my point,” Hunk interrupted. “I know we’re all kind of hiding something, but we can at least be ourselves here, in this house, right? But I think Shiro’s still hiding something from us.”

“Well,” Keith said, “have you told him about being a werewolf?”

“What? No!”

“And I’m assuming you haven’t said anything about being a witch, huh, Pidge?” There was a pause, and Keith continued. “And I haven’t said anything about being the heir to the Seelie throne. So really, none of us are being particularly honest…”

Whatever else Keith said, Shiro didn’t catch it. He couldn’t focus on anything but five words that Keith had uttered.

_ Heir to the Seelie throne… _

Keith wasn’t just any Fae prince, he was the Fae prince. He didn’t just serve the King of the Seelie Court, the king was close kin. One day, Keith would be King of the Seelie Court.

**_Mate is very, very powerful,_ ** Kuron purred, sounding very pleased with himself.

The book Shiro had been holding slipped from his fingers, landing on the floor with an audible clatter. He froze, listening; there was no sound from Keith, Pidge, or Hunk.

_ Please, please, please say none of them heard that… _

“You h-heard that, right?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “That was weird.”

_ Damn it. _

“I don’t think he’s asleep in there.”

_ Shit! _

“Okay, if he wasn’t asleep in there, I think we would have realized that by now,” Pidge said.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because,” Keith said, “he probably would have opened the door and kindly asked up to shut the fuck up if he weren’t asleep. That’s what I do when people wake me up.”

“You don’t ask nicely,” Pidge shot back.

Shiro breathed a sigh of relief, silently thankful for Pidge’s skepticism.

“What if he’s been listening the whole time?” Hunk asked. “And what we just said..?”

There was a pause, and then, the sound of bare feet on the wooden floor, heading for his bedroom. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Keith!” Pidge hissed. “What are you doing?”

Shiro moved to dart across the room, hoping he was quick enough to get on his mattress and look convincingly asleep before Keith opened his door. But the doorknob began to turn, and he knew there wasn’t enough time.

_ Fuck! _

**_Cast an illusion, you dumbass!_ **

An illusion. It had, after some practice, become easy enough to cast an illusion on himself, to keep up his human guise. But projecting illusions was harder, and he’d only managed to successfully do it a handful of times.

**_Do it!_ **

Shiro squeezed his eyes shut, imagining how he might look, curled up on the air mattress. He slept on his side, usually falling asleep facing away from the door, and he only pulled the blankets up to his chest…

The door creaked open. Shiro opened his tightly-clenched fists, as though releasing the illusion into the world, and pressed himself against the wall, eyes still closed tightly, holding his breath and waiting to be called out.

“Looks asleep to me.”

He opened one eye. Sure enough, there he was, sound asleep on his little air mattress. Keith had only opened the door enough to stick his head in, and he was already closing the door. It clicked closed, and Keith continued talking to Pidge and Hunk on the other side. Shiro sighed, opening both eyes and letting the illusion drop.

**_Well, that could have been a mess._ **

_ You know, if you’re not going to be helpful, you could...oh, I don’t know, butt out? Leave me the hell alone?  _

**_Oh, but where would the fun be in that?_ **

Shiro sighed, picking up the mermaid book and returned it to his desk. Keith and Pidge were arguing in the bathroom, while a pair of feet - Hunk, most likely - padded off down the hallway. He leaned against his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger.

**_You’re still going to try to break this marriage bond, aren’t you?_ **

_ Yes. I am. _

Kuron made a noise of disgust.  **_Ungrateful human brat. I found you a perfectly good Fae prince who likes men and this is the thanks I get?_ **

Shiro gripped the edge of the desk. He could feel Kuron’s anger rising, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He wouldn’t let Kuron try to take over again.

_ I’m breaking the bond off. For everyone’s good. _

**_If you will not claim our mate, then I will come and claim him myself!_ **

The fingers of Shiro’s glamoured arm dug into the surface of the desk enough to leave marks in the wood.

_ I won’t let you drag my family into a Fae war, and I will not let you take over my body. _

**_I will not let you throw our mate away! Keith is ours!_ **

_ Keith doesn’t belong to anyone! _

**_What can you do to stop me?_ ** Kuron snorted derisively.  **_You’re just a human._ **

Kuron’s anger surged, his presence a real and tangible thing that brought Shiro to his knees, clutching his head, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He took a deep breath to try to steady himself, imagining tying Kuron with ropes, backing him into a cage deep within his own subconsciousness. 

_ I am not just some human. I am Takashi Shirogane, eldest son of the Shirogane family. I am the grandson of Hayato Shirogane, shrine master and servant of the god Inari. I am your host, but I am not to be used as a meat suit. You will listen to me. _

Kuron snarled. Shiro focused harder, imagining wrapping ropes of pure light around Kuron, putting him into a cage made of the same light, locking it and stepping away as the fox spirit lashed out once, twice, three times. But that...that was it. Kuron’s presence withdrew, and Shiro opened his eyes, gulping down a breath of air and bracing his hands against the floor, feeling like he was going to faint. 

It was getting harder to control Kuron, and the harvest moon was coming. With Inari being a deity of the harvest, Kuron would be at his strongest then, and even with his hoshi no tama, keeping Kuron at bay would be difficult. Still feeling woozy, Shiro laid down on his side, not even caring that he was in the middle of the floor and that his air mattress was only a few feet away.

_ Do you want to know why I want to end this marriage bond? Like, one of the top reasons? _

Kuron didn’t deign to respond, but Shiro knew he was listening. He thought of Keith, thought of how he had seen him today - looked down on by the awful PTO lady, made scared and vulnerable by whatever had happened between him and Allura. He thought about what Keith had said, about how he’d gone through boyfriends like some people went through clothes because Allura kept making his boyfriends forget him. 

_ Because Keith deserves much better than me. _

* * *

 

It was nearly four A.M. by the time Keith staggered upstairs to his room. The house was quiet once again; Lance was, presumably, asleep in Pidge’s room, and after he’d given Pidge a noogie that had knocked her glasses off, she’d barricaded herself in her room with the promise of a knee to the nuts if Keith tried to come in. Hunk had retreated back to his room, Allura was quiet, wherever she was, and Shiro, somehow, had slept through the entire night’s events. Keith envied him just a little bit for that.

He flopped down on his bed, yanking off his boots, when something caught his eye. There was a vase on the bedside table, one that definitely had not been there earlier. A beautiful display of flowers was arranged within - small purple flowers in large clusters that reminded Keith of the shape of cattails, and six-petaled white flowers with delicate lines of brown running through the petals. He leaned in to take a sniff of them; they smelled beautiful. He noticed a small card sitting in front of the vase, which he picked up and opened, curious.

_ Can we talk? _

“Allura?” he asked, having recognized the handwriting on the card. How had she come in and put this in without him noticing?

The writing on the card disappeared, replaced by another question in Allura’s hand: _Can I come up?_

“Um...yeah, sure,” he said, looking around apprehensively, wondering if Allura was going to pop up at the foot of his bed, or stroll out of his closet. To his surprise - and relief - she came up the stairs and knocked on the door, stepping in when Keith gestured for her to come in.

“I’m sorry it’s so late,” she apologized.

“Nah, it’s...it’s fine,” Keith said, before gesturing to the bouquet of flowers. “Are these from you?”

“They are.” Allura stepped closer to the bouquet, hands hovering slightly over the flowers. “You know, back in the Victorian times, a whole language was created in flowers alone.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You could send an entire message with a carefully-arranged bouquet, professing anything from undying love to complete and utter hatred of a person. It’s a lost art, sadly. The Victorians may have been bad at things such as rights for women, or treating mental illness, but they certainly knew how to send you a meaningful bouquet.”

“That’s cool,” Keith said, though he wasn’t entirely sure where the conversation was going. “I’m guessing you put these in here for a reason?”

“I did. This is purple hyacinth and asphodel. It means ‘I’m sorry.’”

Keith looked up at Allura. Her head was bowed, but he could still see that her eyes were bright with tears.

“Allura…”

“I am so ashamed of what I did today, Keith,” she said softly, voice shaking. “I promised to protect you when I took you in...I knew what those other families you’d been with had done, how they had treated you, and I acted no better than them today. There is absolutely nothing I can say or do to justify my actions.”

“I mean, I know you didn’t mean to do it…”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I did it. Allura dabbed at her eyes with the sleeves of her nightgown, a rare moment where she was not refined, but raw around the edges. “And that doesn’t change the fact that I damaged our relationship. I broke the trust you had in me.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Keith picked at the hem of the shirt he was wearing; Allura had definitely scared him earlier, taken him back to a bad place that he’d been working so hard to avoid for nearly six years. But, unlike some of the foster families he’d been with before, he could also tell that Allura was genuinely remorseful for what she had done. He reached out and patted the bed next to him, a silent invitation to close the distance between them. Allura came and sat down, tentatively reaching out for a stray lock of hair. Keith didn’t move, and she gently tucked it behind his ear.

“I hate it, too,” Allura said softly.

“Hate what?”

“The moving. The hiding.” She sighed. “The not feeling safe. I haven’t felt safe in the last two years. And each and every time Honerva attacks, each and every time I moved us, I wondered, do Keith and Pidge hate me for this? Do they hate me for doing what I have to do - for taking you to a new location, for having to erase the memories of the people we cared about.”

“You’re just trying to keep us safe,” Keith said.

“The things you two have been through...it’s more than any teenager should ever have to go through,” Allura said. “If anything were to ever happen to either of you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“I know.” 

“I just want you two to be safe and happy.” This time, she reached over to brush Keith’s bangs out of his face. “I’m not doing a terribly good job of it, am I?”

“You’re trying,” Keith said. “That’s more than a lot of foster parents have done for me.”

“But?”

“I’m mad about the whole Helen thing,” Keith said. “You rolled over and let her treat me and Pidge like dirt. You rolled over and let her treat you like dirt. Why?” He looked over at her, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Is there something wrong with me? It’s the gay thing, isn’t it?”

“What? No! Of course not.” Allura shook her head. “You are fine the way you are. And you’re right. I should have stood up for you and Pidge. I got caught up in wanting to make a good first impression for Helen.” Her laugh was small and just a little bitter. “I guess I want to fit in just as badly as you two do.”

Again, silence. But then again, Keith had never been particularly good with words. It was one thing to say something, another to do it. Allura was sitting close enough, so he leaned into her left side, a gesture he’d done a long time ago, when he’d been a scared thirteen-year-old who finally realized she was different from his other foster families.

_I trust you_ , it meant.

Allura looked at him with wide eyes. He gave her a tired smile, and she gently put an arm around his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For everything.”

“I accept your apology.”

She gave him a gentle squeeze. “For all my lack of parenting experience, I have to say you and Pidge turned out pretty good.”

Keith dipped his head forward, letting his hair fall into his face and hide the fact that he was smiling and blushing just a little. He and Allura sat just like that for a moment, the physical contact a reassurance and a promise for both of them - that they would try, that they would work to support each other. They had both shown each other their vulnerable sides; that’s what their family really was, three vulnerable people just trying to hold it together as one cohesive unit.

Finally, Allura smoothed back his hair one more time, before standing up. “It’s been a long night. We should be getting to bed.”

“Yeah,” Keith said. “And Pidge and I have school tomorrow.”

“I won’t hold it against you if you choose to sleep in,” Allura said, and Keith swore he saw a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Keith nodded. “Duly noted.”

She smiled. “Goodnight, Keith.”

“Oh, hey, Allura.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really well-versed in flower language, right?”

“I mean, it was a casual hobby, but I would say yes.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, I’m sure Helen is probably expecting an apology bouquet or some shit like that,” Keith said. “I’m just wondering, how do I say ‘fuck you, you racist bigot’ in flowers?”

Allura rolled her eyes. “Go to bed, Keith.”

“All right. All right.” He watched as she headed for the door, but before she could leave… “Allura?”

She stopped. “Yes?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

She gave him a smile. “No...thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This book](https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mermaids-skye-alexander/1110788923#/) is the source of the quotes about selkies.
> 
> [Come yell about Voltron with me on Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	11. The Disaster Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura's missing birthday present leads to a night the whole house won't forget.

“Where is it?” 

Three days had passed in a hazy blur, three days of running around with Allura and Pidge, trying to piece together a life for Lance within their crazy household, getting him registered for the same high school he and Pidge attended, buying some cheap but sturdy furniture to set up in the last spare bedroom in order for it to serve as Lance’s room, putting together a few basic wardrobe items, and, on top of it all, making sure that Lance did not, in fact, attempt to throw himself back into the Puget Sound and try to swim back to his pod. 

Despite having had plans laid out for it, Allura’s birthday had rather snuck up on Keith and Pidge. They’d only just remembered the night before, and had mutually decided to give her the necklace that Keith had ordered off of eBay - as pretty as it was, Keith just was not a pearls kind of guy, and Pidge hated just about any and all kinds of jewelry. Pearls, however, would suit Allura’s style, and Keith was pretty sure she’d like the one he’d found.

But, as he scrambled through the mishmash of change, rings, runestones, and other sundry items that were strewn across the top of his dresser in the few minutes before he had to leave for school, he came to one horrible realization.

It wasn’t in his room.

“Keith!” Allura called up the stairs. “We need to leave in five minutes! I hope you’re ready!”

“Yeah, I’m ready! I’m coming!” he hollered. He scowled at the top of his dresser, as if doing so would make the item he sought magically appear, then grabbed his backpack and pounded downstairs, hoping Pidge was in her room.

Her door was open, and when he stuck his head in, she was at Rover’s cage. She had the door open, and was spraying Rover with a water bottle while he fluffed his feathers. She glanced up when Keith came to the door.

“Card’s on my desk. You’ve got the necklace, right?”

Keith made a face. “I...came to see if you had it..?”

Pidge stopped spritzing Rover, who screeched in protest, as loudly as an indignant, 2-ounce pygmy owl could. She fixed Keith with an incredulous look. “Are you for fuckin’ serious?”

“I tore my room apart looking for it,” Keith said, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender and hoping Pidge didn’t spray him with the water bottle - or throw it at him. “But honestly, I am like, ninety-nine percent sure I never even took it up to my room.”

“And you just...what? Assumed I had it?”

“You’re better at keeping track of stuff! Do you know how much shit I have lost from all the times I’ve moved in my life?”

“Keith! Pidge! Lance! Two minutes!” Allura warned.

Pidge sighed. “Well, where was the last place you saw the necklace?”

“I remember putting it on the table in the foyer the day it came in the mail…”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Pidge spoke. “And...then what?”

“That...was it,” Keith said.

Pidge groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

“I got it in the mail, like, three weeks ago!” Keith said. “It’s not like I left it there for six months!”

“You three had best be ready to go, or we’re going to be late!” Allura called.

“Shit,” Pidge groaned. She put the spray bottle down, grabbed her backpack, and headed for the door. She stopped when she drew even with Keith, poking a finger into his chest. “You better find that necklace, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to make Allura think we’re a pair of complete shitheads who forgot her birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll look around for it,” Keith said. “Trust me, for what I paid to get it shipped over here, I want to find it, too.”

“What are you looking for?”

Both Keith and Pidge jumped. Shiro stood ust outside the door to Pidge’s room, wearing a robe and pajama pants and holding a cup of coffee. The sight of him was a bit startling to Keith, not just because of his sudden appearance, but the fact that he looked unhealthy; his skin was sallow, and there were large, dark circles under his eyes. Keith clearly was not the only one to notice this; Pidge made a face that was the biggest yikes he’d ever seen.

“Um...are you feeling okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, just...had a few rough nights.” Shiro offered an exhausted, unconvincing smile. “Anything I can help you guys find?”

“There’s a necklace I bought,” Keith said, “and Pidge and I decided to give it to Allura for her birthday, but, uh...it appears to have grown legs and wandered off.”

“Well that’s not good,” Shiro said. “What does it look like?”

“The cord is like...I don’t know, some kind of fiber? Maybe leather? Kind chincy-looking,” Pidge said.

“And then attached to the cord is a pearl, it’s about this big.” Keith held up his fingers in a rough estimate. “It’s white, but there’s like...a silvery swirl in it…”

He trailed off, tilting his head at Shiro. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he swore Shiro had gone even paler at his description of the necklace, and the hand holding the coffee cup was visibly trembling. 

“Uh...Shiro?”

“Y-Yeah?” he asked, a distinctive waver in his voice. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Totally fine.”

“I don’t think you are,” Pidge said. “Oh man, you’re not, like, going to puke on the carpet, are you? Because I just ate breakfast, and I’d rather it not make a reappearance.”

“N-No, I’m not...not going to do anything like that,” Shiro said, a hand going to his neck. As Keith watched, he toyed with something there; Keith caught a glimpse of something white and circular between Shiro’s fingers, roughly the same size and shape as the necklace he’d misplaced.

It couldn’t be...could it?

“Shiro...what’s that around your neck?”

Shiro froze completely, mouth gaping open like a fish. Keith and Pidge both exchanged looks, eyes narrowed suspiciously and brows furrowed. Keith didn’t like thinking the worst of Shiro, because he seemed like a nice enough guy. But there was really no logical explanation for Shiro’s suddenly shady behavior.

“You two! I told you we needed to leave! You know I hate being stuck behind the buses.” Allura appeared at the door, scowling and with hands on her hips. “We are definitely getting stuck behind them now.”

“Sorry, Allura,” Keith and Pidge apologized in unison.

She nodded, noticed Shiro, and greeted him with a polite nod. However, she did a double-take, her eyebrows climbing her forehead at his appearance. “Mr. Shirogane! Are you okay? You look positively dreadful!”

“I know, I know.” Shiro gave her that exhausted smile. “Haven’t been sleeping very well. I might be coming down with something.”

“Well, I’m no doctor, but you should lay back down and get some rest,” Allura said. “Is there anything I can get you? Some tea, or some painkillers?”

“No, I think I’m fine, but thank you,” Shiro said.

“If you’re sure…” Allura turned back to Pidge and Keith. “Now, we need to get going before you’re both late for school. And where’s Lance?”

A bloodcurdling scream shattered the relative calm of the morning - and it was coming from the bathroom. Allura, Keith, and Pidge all exchanged wide-eyed looks; Keith could feel his stomach sinking.

“Lance,” the three of them said in unison.

They stormed out of Pidge’s room and down the narrow hall to the bathroom; Allura reached the door first, and with no warning to whoever or whatever was on the other side, she flung it open. Keith and Pidge surged in after her, years of visits from Honerva’s minions and other assorted nasty creatures steeling them for the absolute worst.

But aside from Lance - who was standing in front of the mirror with only a pair of boxers on - the bathroom was empty.

“Well...at least he’s wearing something this time,” Keith remarked.

“Lance?” Allura asked. “What’s going on in here?”

Lance turned to face the three of them with wide, teary eyes, pointing to his face.

“There’s something growing on my face!”

There was a very long and confused moment of silence. Allura finally leaned in close, examining Lance’s face, and after a moment, she sighed heavily.

“Lance, it’s just a pimple.”

“A pimple?!” He looked at the three of them, horrified. “What is that? Why is it growing on my face?! Get it off!”

“I...can’t get it,” Allura said. “You have to let it go away on its own.”

“He could pop it,” Pidge suggested. 

“You’re not supposed to do that, that scars,” Allura chided.

Pidge shrugged. “Never has for me!”

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you were screaming bloody murder over a freakin’ zit?” Keith asked. “We thought you were, like, being abducted in here or something!”

“Also, we’re supposed to be leaving for school like, now, and you’re not even dressed.” Pidge checked her watch. “I’ve got a test in Calculus today and I’m going to need all the time I can get on that, so just like...throw some clothes on and let’s go.”

But, far from being reassured that a pimple was not, in fact, the end of the world, Lance was now crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Allura sighed, taking a tissue from the box on the counter and pressing it into his hands. 

“You’ve never been out of your skin this long, have you?”

“N-N-No…” he wailed.

“All right. All right. We’ll...we’ll sort this out. Hang on a minute.” She ushered Pidge and Keith out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her - not that it did anything, because Lance was crying loud enough to be heard through the door.

“Is he going to be okay in there?” Pidge asked.

Allura sighed. “An unfortunate...side effect, so to speak, of a selkie being on land is that the longer they’re on land, the more their beauty fades. A selkie as young as Lance has likely never spent any more than a day out of his skin.”

“So that explains the pimple,” Pidge said.

“And the meltdown,” Keith added.

“And, unfortunately, means we’re...rather back at square one as far as getting Lance over the hurdle of coming to terms with his banishment,” Allura said. “I’m...afraid I’m going to have to stay here and work with him today.”

“Sooo….” Keith began.

Allura made a face. “You two are still going to school.”

“Yeah, but the bus already came and went,” Pidge pointed out. “Hunk doesn’t have a driver’s license and Shiro doesn’t have a car.”

“I can drive the minivan,” Keith suggested.

“If Keith’s driving, I’m walking,” Pidge said.

Lance was still crying through the door, and Allura sighed. “Could you call one of your friends and see if they can pick you up? Morgan lives nearby, and he has a car.”

“Yeah, but...surely you need backup dealing with Lance,” Keith wheedled. “Besides, it’s your birthday, surely you don’t want to spend it with a crying selkie. Pidge and I could help out…”

“Either call your friend, or I will call Coran and have him take you to school in that ugly station wagon of his,” Allura threatened.

Keith and Pidge exchanged looks.

“I’ll text Morgan,” Keith said.

“Guess I’ll be late for Calculus,” Pidge sighed.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Jeremy said as he and Zain plopped down on either side of Keith at the lunch table, “where’s the new guy?”

“Oh, Lance?” Keith said. “He’s home sick today.”

“Home sick my ass,” Pidge grumbled. “Dude had a meltdown over a pimple and ended up getting to stay home.”

“Seriously?” Mina asked, leaning in slightly to fix Pidge with a look of disbelief. “I wish a stray pimple was my only problem!”

“Yeah, I know, right?” Pidge said. “If I had stayed home every time I had a pimple, no one would have been me for half of freshman year.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not just the pimple,” Keith said with a look at Pidge. “Lance is still in an adjustment period. Allura’s going to go a lot easier on him for a while. She did the same thing with you. And with me. Shit, I could have gotten away with murder when Allura first took me in, she wanted me to trust her so badly.”

Pidge shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I still didn’t have any meltdowns over zits.”

“And besides, Hunk had to work today, and she wasn’t going to leave him alone with Shiro,” Keith continued, “not after this morning, anyways.”

“Okay, what’s going on with him?” Pidge asked. “Like, it is me or was he being really shady this morning?”

“Whoa, where’s this coming from?” Aniyah asked from Pidge’s left side. “You were practically hero-worshipping the guy two days ago after your two-hour discussion on whatever it was.”

“One, it was a discussion on the, frankly, quite appalling drop-off in the exposure girls get to STEM programs after they reach about age 10, which Shiro had some great ideas on,” Pidge said, “and two, I do not hero-worship the guy.”

“You kinda do,” Keith said.

“At least I don’t eye him like a piece of meat that’s on sale, Tinkerhell.”

“I have done no such thing, lies and slander.”

“Yeah right, you think I didn’t see you watching him help Hunk chop wood for the fire pit the other day?”

“Yeah, you guys were telling me he was being kind of weird this morning,” Morgan cut in from Aniyah’s other side, leaning in to be heard. “What was it about, again?”

“Allura’s birthday present,” Keith said. “I ordered this necklace on eBay, from a guy in Japan. It’s got this really beautiful pearl on it, it’s like, the size of a shooter marble and has this silver swirl in it, really nice. But I can’t find it, and Pidge swears she hasn’t moved it.”

“And then when we tried to talk to Shiro about it, he got really nervous and wouldn’t give us a straight answer,” Pidge added.

“And he had something around his neck, something that he was toying with that looked like the necklace,” Keith said. “Or, at least, it did from what I could see of it.”

“Why would he want to steal a necklace?” Jeremy asked.

“Maybe he’s a kleptomaniac,” Morgan said. “I had a cousin who was one. We stopped speaking to him after we found out that he’d raided my mom’s jewelry box when he came over for Thanksgiving.”

“I mean...I don’t think anything else has gone missing, though,” Pidge said. “Just that necklace.”

“And it’s not like he’s hiding anything in his room, because...well, there’s nothing in his room,” Keith said. “The man’s been living with us for three weeks and still sleeps on an air mattress.”

“So...what are you guys going to do?”

Keith and Pidge exchanged looks. They’d been so caught up in trying to figure out the meaning behind Shiro’s weird behavior that they hadn’t exactly thought about what they were going to do about it. Confrontations weren’t anything new for Keith - and anyone who knew him well enough would never have said that he disliked confrontation - but they couldn’t afford to lose Shiro as a tenant, which meant that Keith couldn’t afford to blow up on him, or make him so uncomfortable he wanted to leave.

“Well, I mean, I guess we just...confront him?”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, cause that worked so well this morning.”

“I mean, we might have gotten something out of him if Lance hadn’t picked that exact moment to go postal over a zit.”

Pidge still looked unconvinced. Keith sighed, scratching the back of his head.

“Okay, so we just...keep it cool. Ask nicely. I mean, I’m sure that, if he did take it, there’s got to be some kind of reason why. Right?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Pidge said.

“Well, then, we’ll ask him when we get home. Hopefully, get Allura’s present back before dinner.”

“Yeah,” Pidge said, “because Hunk promised an entire spread for Allura’s birthday dinner, and I am not about to try to follow up Hunk’s cooking with a stupid card.”

* * *

 

Pidge and Keith’s hopes of gently confronting Shiro before dinner, however, were dashed when they got home and found Shiro’s bedroom door closed.

“Think he’s here?” Pidge asked as they stared at the wooden door.

“I don’t know,” Keith said. “He doesn’t have his rental car anymore, so I never know when he’s here or not.”

“We could knock?”

Keith leaned forward, knocking. “Hey, Shiro? It’s Keith and Pidge. We wanted to ask you something, are you in there?”

No response. After a moment, Pidge leaned forward and knocked.

“Shiro?”

Nothing. They exchanged looks, then, Keith leaned in, pressing his ear to the door.

“Do you hear anything?” Pidge asked.

“Yeah, there’s...someone’s in there, I hear breathing,” Keith said. 

“Maybe he’s asleep?”

There came a distinct whimpering noise from the other side of the door. Keith frowned, then placed a hand on the doorknob.

“Shiro? Are you okay?”

“What’s going on?” Pidge asked.

“I heard him whimpering in there...he might be hurt. Or like, really sick.”

“Try the door.”

He tried the knob, but it was locked. He shook his head to Pidge, listening to the door again. There were definite whimpers in there.

“Shiro, is everything okay in there?”

“Go away…” a faint reply came. “Please…”

“Are you sure we don’t need to go get Allura?” Keith asked.

“No...no, don’t get her. Please, just...just go…”

“Are you sure?” Pidge asked.

“Just go!” Shiro snapped from the other side of the door, uncharacteristically angry.

Pidge and Keith exchanged looks. Keith didn’t feel terribly good about leaving Shiro alone, sounding as sick or hurt as he sounded - he felt a little guilty, in fact. But the way it sounded, Shiro didn’t particularly want their help.

“Alright, we’re leaving,” Keith called through the door. “You, uh...you know where to find us if you need us.”

Shiro didn’t respond. Keith and Pidge stepped away from the door, leaning in close to each other.

“We’re not going to get to ask him about the necklace, are we?” Pidge asked.

“Honestly, I’m not terribly worried about that right now,” Keith said. “There’s something wrong with Shiro.”

“Yeah, he seems a little...touchy.”

“Should we tell Allura?”

“He seemed pretty insistent that we didn’t get her…”

“Yeah, and I was pretty insistent about not calling Allura the day the entire junior class lost their collective shit after Honerva drugged the cafeteria food,” Keith reminded her. “That ended with me in the principal’s office and you getting tranquilized by the coven, remember?”

“Okay, fair.” Pidge sighed, shoving her hands into her pockets. “So now what?”

“Let’s just...play it cool until dinner,” Keith suggested. “See if Shiro comes down. See how he acts.”

“And?”

Keith shrugged. “Come up with a plan from there. From here...there’s just not really much we can do.”

* * *

 

**_Let me out._ **

Shiro braced his hands on the wooden floor, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to make the room stop spinning.

Today was it - the day of the Harvest Moon. And Shiro felt like he was going to die.

Perhaps it was a slight exaggeration on his part, but Shiro could honestly say he had never felt sicker in his entire life. His head pounded hard enough that he thought it would split open, which in turn made him stomach roil to the point that he’d regurgitated his measly breakfast and hadn’t bothered with food since. His entire body was tense, hands twitching spasmodically. His right arm, the one Kuron had marked upon entering his body, had lost its glamour completely, nails scratching lines into the floor as he clenched his hands into fists.

**_Let. Me. OUT._ **

How had his grandfather stood this for so many years? Now that he was caught in the throes of trying to hold Kuron back, he remembered now, how his grandfather had always been sharper, more aggressive and less patient as the Harvest Moon had drawn near. How he would close himself up in the shrine in the days surrounding that particular moon. How the one time he hadn’t, shortly after Shiro and Ryou had come to live with him, how Ryou had woken in the middle of the night to find a human-shaped shadow with glowing yellow eyes outside of his bedroom window. Nothing had happened - Ryou had only been spooked, and Shiro had heard his little brother’s cries and gone to comfort him. He’d known, as he’d sat in the dark and held his little brother until he fell asleep again, that it was his grandfather, under the influence of Kuron, standing outside their window. He hadn’t understood then how the influence of the fox spirit worked, but now, as he fisted his hands into his hair, he could understand it.

**_That’s right,_ ** Kuron hissed, dragging those phantom talons of his down Shiro’s spine in a way that felt so real it made his stomach turn.  **_Your grandfather couldn’t stand against me. You can’t, either. Just let me out. It will be so much easier that way._ **

_ No...I can’t… _

**_You can’t fight me forever. I am a divine beast, a servant of Inari, god of the harvest. Today is my day._ **

Shiro clutched at his temples, which throbbed painfully as Kuron spoke. His skin was cold and clammy, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He swore, he could hear everything, hear Pidge and Keith on the other side of the door, walking away, off to their own lives. He felt terrible for snapping at them. But he couldn’t let either of them - or Allura - see him as he currently was.

And if he lost control...if Kuron took control…

**_Are you afraid to let our mate see us like this?_ **

Kuron dug those phantom claws in again. Shiro pressed a fist into his mouth to keep from screaming aloud, biting down so hard he actually tasted blood.

**_You are weak. You are foolish. How can our mate love us in this form? We are weak. Incomplete. I would make you stronger. Better. Stop denying what you are._ **

_ No...I can’t… _

**_Let. Me. OUT!_ **

The pain was blinding. Shiro bent far enough forward that his forehead touched the floor, teeth clenched, hands clutching his head. 

The pain was too much. He collapsed in a heap on the floor, dark spots dancing in his vision. He closed his eyes to make the world stop spinning, feeling unconsciousness creeping in, threatening to drag him down with it. 

He didn’t fight it.

* * *

 

“Shiro?”

Shiro jolted back to awareness, head throbbing and mouth filled with a terrible taste. He was still lying in the middle of his bedroom floor; outside, the sun hung low on the horizon, and the sky was painted with the colors of early twilight. He remembered passing out in the middle of the floor, but only vague snatches of things after that - passing in and out of consciousness, jolting awake and scrambling for the trash can but only succeeding in vomiting on himself, scraping his cheek when he passed out against the corner of his desk.

“Shiro?” It wasn’t Keith or Pidge at the door, but Hunk. “I know you’re not feeling well, but I wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready downstairs. Only if you feel up to it, though. Allura will totally understand if you don’t.”

Shit. Today was Allura’s birthday. Shiro pushed himself up onto his elbows. Kuron dug in to him, making his head throb, but he was a silent, if painful, presence. 

“No, I’m...I’m feeling better,” Shiro lied. “I’ll be down in just a second.”

“You sure, man?” Hunk asked. “Because for real, no shame if you’re not feeling up to it. I can always bring you up some soup or something.”

“No,” Shiro insisted, slowly sitting up. “I’m good. I’ll come down. Give me...give me a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Hunk said. “I’ll tell Pidge to set a place for you.”

**_Fool._ **

_ Don’t you start. _ Shiro peeled off his sweaty, soiled clothes, stumbling around for a pair of clean ones. His usually tidy room was a mess; cleaning up after himself had fallen by the wayside as Kuron had gotten louder and more aggressive. 

**_You really think you can keep up appearances in front of them?_ ** Kuron scoffed.  **_It would be much easier if you just gave in._ **

_ No. Now shut up and fuck off. _

Kuron tsked.  **_Such a nasty mouth. Is that any way for a human servant of Inari to speak? And to a divine beast, no less?_ **

Shiro purposefully ignored him, carefully pulling on a long-sleeved shirt. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold an illusion long enough or strong enough to glamour his entire arm, but he figured he could at least glamour his hand through dinner.

He hoped.

The smell of food hit him as soon as he left his room. He slowly made his way downstairs, gaping as soon as he rounded the corner and saw the spread that had been laid out on the dining room table. Hunk had outdone himself. The centerpiece of it all was a beautiful, pale-pink, two-tiered cake with a single candle sticking out of the top tier. Around it were plates of vibrantly-colored sliced fruits and veggies, bowls of rice and delicate finger potatoes, platters of chicken and fish, and…

**_Tofu?_ **

_ Oh no. Don’t you start that again. _

Pidge, Allura, and Lance were already seated at the table, while Keith and Hunk were carrying the last few things from the kitchen. Keith glanced up, saw Shiro, and almost dropped the bowl of sugar snap peas he was holding.

“Shiro,” he said. “You...made it down.”

“Shiro?” Allura turned in her chair and blanched at the sight of him. “Oh…”

Shiro reached up, compulsively touching the side of his head. No fox ears. The hand in his peripheral vision ended in blunt fingernails, not claws.

“Hey,” he said, with a weak attempt at a smile. “Is it that bad?”

“You look rough, dude,” Pidge said.

“Pidge!” Allura hissed, before turning back to SHiro. “Are you...quite sure you’re feeling alright?”

“I think I’m coming down with something,” Shiro said, taking the empty seat between Lance and Allura. “You know...adjusting to a new university and all that.”

Lies. Lies, lies, lies. Shiro had spent his days at the local library, splitting his time between pouring through any and all books about the Fair Folk that he could get his hands on and having quiet freak-outs in the seldom-visited encyclopedia section. The source of his freak-outs was, of course, his current and very dire situation, mostly driven by the ticking time bomb that was his passport. Eventually, someone would come looking for him, and given what he knew about American political culture, he was dead certain that “someone” would be an immigration officer with a deportation order. He wouldn’t be able to survive the marriage bond being stretched that far. It - or Kuron - would drive him mad.

But Allura bought the lie. Concerned wrinkled her brow, but she offered Shiro a smile. “Well, I’m glad you were feeling well enough to join us for dinner.”

“Well, it certainly looks amazing,” Shiro said. 

“Trust me, it’s going to taste even better,” Hunk said, taking the seat at the far end of the table. Keith took the only remaining seat, which was, of course, across from Shiro. To Shiro’s surprise, Keith was actually wearing what appeared to be a button-down shirt, the wine-red color a stunning complement to his pale skin and dark hair.

“Well, let’s eat,” Keith said.

**_I’d rather take a bite out of him, instead._ **

Shiro pressed his lips together, and, knowing he’d get no peace unless he did so, accepted the platter of tofu from Allura.

“Lance, don’t pick at it,” Allura scolded gently. Glancing over, Shiro saw that Lance was prodding and scratching at a band-aid on his face. He pouted when Allura scolded him.

“But I want it to go away,” he groaned.

“What did the lady at Ulta tell you?”

“It’ll scar if I pop it,” Lance sighed, helping himself to a very large spoonful of cooked kale. Keith made a gagging noise as he did, and Shiro couldn’t blame him. It looked like Lance was eating seaweed.

“I still say that’s bullshit,” Pidge commented, ignoring the scathing look Allura gave her. “I have popped many, many pimples in my day, and they have yet to scar.

“Can we please not talk about popping pimples at the dinner table?” Allura asked. “It’s disgusting.”

Shiro breathed a sigh of relief when Pidge grudgingly acquiesced. He was pretty sure his stomach wouldn’t be able to handle any more talk of pimple-popping. Fortunately, the table conversation jumped to more polite things; Pidge and Keith gave the Reader’s Digest versions of their days, Hunk told them about a cake he’d been working on at the bakery, and Allura managed to get Lance to tell everyone that he’d gotten a job at Ulta. It was a scene that was so wonderfully normal that Shiro almost forgot about Kuron, or the Harvest Moon. 

“I think the sun’s gone down completely,” Allura remarked towards the end of dinner. “We could probably open the curtains again and not go blind.”

“Oh, yeah, I got it.” Hunk popped up from his chair and opened the curtains. Beyond the window, the sky had darkened to deepest blue, and the full moon hung high in the sky.

_ Oh no… _

Kuron came roaring back, the impact of his presence as real as being hit by a truck. Shiro tensed up, gritting his teeth and hoping that no one would notice his sudden change.

“Shiro...is everything okay?” Allura asked.

He made himself nod. “Yeah. Just...just a headache. I’m okay.”

**_Liar liar liar liar let me out let me out let me out liar liar liar…_ **

He reached to the neckline of his shirt, trying to slip the  _ hoshi no tama _ into his palm without anyone noticing. But everyone’s eyes were on him from Allura’s question; as he palmed the hoshi no tama and slipped the cord from around his neck, he saw Keith and Pidge exchange suspicious looks. His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Are you sure?” Allura asked. “You look unwell…”

“Hey Shiro,” Pidge said, eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, uh...it’s...it’s nothing…”

“You sure?” Keith asked, one eyebrow raised. “Because it looks an awful lot like a necklace I bought.”

“Huh. It does?”

“Keith, Pidge, what are you two talking about?” Allura asked.

“That’s interesting,” Pidge said, ignoring Allura’s question, “because I thought you said that necklace went missing?”

“It did,” Keith replied. “Which is a real pain in the ass, because Pidge and I were planning on giving you the necklace for your birthday, Allura.”

Shiro was sweating now, trying his hardest to maintain the illusions he had in place as Kuron howled in his skull, as Pidge and Keith interrogated him from across the table.

“But here you are, wearing what looks like the very same necklace that Keith ordered,” Pidge said. “The one that went missing.”

“Which tells me one thing.” Keith leaned in, eyes dark with anger. “ _ You stole it. _ ”

Allura turned to Shiro, surprise on her face - and hurt in her eyes. “Is this...is this true, Mr. Shirogane?”

“I-I-I…” Shiro choked out. “I...I can explain…”

“We’ll be taking that back now.” Pidge pointed to Shiro’s hand, curled tightly around the  _ hoshi no tama _ . “ _ Accio. _ ”

As if it had come alive, the  _ hoshi no tama _ began to squirm in Shiro’s clasped hand. He clenched his fist tighter, feeling claws prick his palm as he struggled to hold on to this, the only thing keeping his sanity in check.

“No, please…” he ground out. “Please, you don’t understand…”

Pidge bared her teeth, jumping to her feet quickly enough that she knocked over her chair with a loud clatter.

“ _ Expelo! _ ”

Shiro’s hand flew open, the hoshi no tama zooming out of it. Keith snatched it out of the air. 

And with that simple action, the last of Shiro’s control snapped.

“No...no no no no…”

He slapped his hands over his ears. Already, they were covered with a layer of fuzz down, pushing past the tips of his fingers in an entirely new shape. The back seam of the loose sweatpants he was wearing came apart with a rip, the chair he sat on creaking dangerously as first one tail, then two, then four, then seven, then the full nine - massive and black-furred, tipped in white - pushed against the back of the chair, Shiro’s back aching as he adjusted to the full weight of them. Claws grew from the nail beds of his left hand, and the illusion on his right fizzled out completely, revealed the scarred, marked hand, permanently tipped in claws; those claws scraped against his white-tipped black ears, now well beyond the point that he could hide them.

The kitchen was silent. Hunk stared at him wide-eyed. Allura, Pidge, Lance, and Keith were all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Kuron merely purred in Shiro’s ear, sounding extremely pleased with himself.

**_I told you it would easier this way._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Latin spells! For all your Harry Potter fans, "accio" should be familiar; meanwhile, "expelo" comes from the same root as "expelliarmus"
> 
> As for the cafeteria fight that Keith mentions...[It looked a little something like this.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPYqRaOm1ak)
> 
> [Come see me scream about VLD s7 on Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	12. The Tale of the Fox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's secret is out, and he has a lot of explaining to do.

One moment, the kitchen was silent.

The next, it was chaos.

Keith, Allura, and Pidge were all on their feet at once. Keith drew a knife from his belt; a blast of wind tore through the kitchen, and, in a flash of light, the knife was gone, replaced by a hand-and-a-half sword with a wicked curve to the lower end of the blade. Keith’s eyes glowed, his hair had gone from black to white, and when he snarled at Shiro, his canine teeth had a sharp edge to them.

Allura and Pidge didn’t quite have a dramatic transformation like Keith did, but they both shouted a spell at the same time, and the next thing Shiro knew, he’d been bound to his chair by what he could only describe as ropes of pure light. It was not a comfortable sensation.

Lance, meanwhile, startled by Shiro’s sudden transformation as well as Keith, Pidge, and Allura’s reactions, leapt from his chair and was now cowering behind Hunk, who was observing the scene with wide eyes, but, by far, had reacted to the situation the best.

“What the fuck are you?” Pidge yelled.

“I think my young ward put it best,” Allura said, “even though I may not approve of her language…”

Shiro opened his mouth, an explanation already building in his brain, swelling in his throat. But, at perhaps the worst possible moment for it to happen, he choked, only managing to stammer out a few incoherent syllables.

Keith raised his sword, pointing it across the table at Shiro. “Answer the question.”

“He’s a kitsune.”

The answer came from Hunk, and Shiro was a little glad for that, because it at least got everyone’s attention off of him for a second.

“A what?” Pidge asked, already going for her phone.

“You knew?” Allura asked, incredulous.

Hunk looked down, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “I...sniffed him out, his first day here.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Keith asked.

“It wasn’t my place to say anything…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” Shiro finally managed to get out, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “I just...I wasn’t sure how you were going to react…”

“And this is better?” Keith asked.

“No!” Shiro wanted to hide his head in his hands, but they were tied down at his sides. “No, it’s not. I should have said something, but...it’s a really long story.”

“Well, are you going to tell us?” Keith asked.

“Not so fast,” Pidge said, turning her phone around to show Keith and Allura what she had been looking up on her phone, the angle just right so that Shiro could get a look, too. “I’m not so sure we’re going to be able to trust whatever he tells us. He might not be one of the trustworthy ones.”

**_Wikipedia? Really?_ **   Kuron sighed. **_For a supposed genius, I expected better._ **

“Shut up,” Shiro hissed. It was only when Allura, Keith, and Pidge all looked at him with severe expressions that he realized he’d spoken aloud. “No! Not you guys! I’m not telling you guys to shut up! I know I probably sound pretty crazy right now, but I promise, I am not insane…”

“You’re not exactly making a convincing case right now,” Keith said.

“Just...just hear me out, okay? Please?” Shiro asked. “I can explain if you just listen.”

Allura exchanged looks with Pidge and Keith, then snapped her fingers. Shiro’s chair shot back from the table a few feet, and the three of them circled around the table, coming to stand in front of him. Shiro swallowed hard.

_I’d rather face down high school entrance exams again…_

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Allura said, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re a kitsune.”

He nodded. “I am.”

“That explains the tails,” Keith remarked.

“But there’s more than one type of kitsune,” Pidge said, looking at the screen of her phone again.

**_Again with the Wikipedia?_ **

“There are,” Shiro said, ignoring Kuron’s comment. “I’m...one of the good ones, I promise.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. Shiro swallowed hard, unable to suddenly explain the lump in his throat that had appeared at Keith’s look.

“You do realize,” Keith began, “that, given the fact that we just caught you having stolen something, telling us you’re one of the good ones might be a little...hard to believe.”

“I can explain about that,” Shiro said. “It won’t make sense if I don’t.”

“Okay.” Keith crossed his arms, leaning back against the table with narrowed eyes. “Explain.”

“The _hoshi no tama_ \- the necklace, it’s not an ordinary piece of jewelry. It’s...almost like an anchor.”

“An anchor?” Pidge interrupted. “For what?”

“My powers,” Shiro answered. “My...my form. A lot of different things.”

“Well, if it’s so important for you, then why were you selling it on eBay?” Keith asked.

“I-I didn’t!”

**_This isn’t going well._ **

_Yeah, no thanks to you._

Allura raised one hand, a pacifying gesture. “Calm down, all of you. Pidge, Keith, stop interrupting. Shiro, please continue.”

“My roommate, he’d just broken up with his girlfriend. He was going through the apartment, cleaning out her belongings. She didn’t want them back, so he was just...just getting rid of them. Selling them on eBay. Best I can tell, when I took it off to shower, he found it, thought it was something of hers, and grabbed it.” Shiro turned to Keith. “Then you bought it. I tracked the package to…” He trailed off with a nervous swallow, because this was the part of the story that he knew was going to make him sound like an absolute creep. “To your old address, in Arizona.”

“And found out that we no longer lived there,” Allura added quietly.

He nodded.

“So, how did you knew we’d moved to Seattle?”

“There was a boy, back at the apartment building. He said he knew you guys, before you moved out…”

Keith’s eyes went wide in his pale face. “James? You saw James?”

“I...I guess? He never said his name…”

“What did he say?”

Shiro bit his lower lip. He remembered exactly what James had said - how he’d called Keith a freak and a weirdo, how he’d told Shiro “ _I don’t know and I don’t really care. Good fucking riddance to him._ ” But the look on Keith’s face...there was something there that was both hopeful and fearful, and Shiro couldn’t tell him about the hateful words James had spat at him. He offered Keith what he hoped looked like an apologetic smile. “I...I’m sorry, I don’t really remember…”

“The fliers,” Allura mumbled. “That’s...that’s how you found the house. I posted fliers in practically every coffee shop in Seattle.”

“But how did you know I’d be here?” Keith asked, gesturing to Allura. “We don’t have the same last name.”

“I don’t know how to describe it,” Shiro said. “Kuron, the fox spirit I, uh, I live with, he just...it’s like he knew.”

“So you drove out here when I invited you out,” Allura said.

“I saw my _hoshi no tama_ on the table in the foyer, when I came in. And I...I just grabbed it, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Shiro bowed his head, looking down at his lap. “I needed it back. Without it…” He gestured to himself as best as he could, given that Allura had not let up on the ropes of light that bound him. “Without it, I can’t control this. I was turning into a fox a little more each day.”

“Is that why you’ve looked so awful the past few days?” Pidge asked.

“Pidge!” Allura hissed.

Shiro nodded. “Kuron is at his most powerful during the full moon.”

“Kind of like a werewolf,” Keith said with a look at Hunk.

“Except I’m not sharing my body with the spirit embodiment of a minor figure of divinity,” Hunk said with a shrug.

“Tonight’s a full moon,” Lance said, pointing out the window.

“Not just any full moon, either,” Shiro said. “It’s the Harvest moon.”

“And Inari is a deity of the harvest,” Hunk chimed in.

“Huh.” Pidge nodded slightly. “I guess that explains a lot.”

“But if you grabbed your _hoshi no tama_ right after you came in...why did you stay?” Keith asked.

_Well shit._

Shiro sighed. “It’s...complicated.”

“Does it have anything to do with the fox wedding?”

Shiro froze. Everyone else looked down the table to Hunk; Allura frowned, a sharp furrow growing in the smooth skin between his brows.

“The what?”

“You...I remember you said something about that,” Pidge said. “That’s what you called the sun shower.”

“They call it a fox wedding in Japan,” Hunk said, looking to Shiro. “You caused it, didn’t you?”

He nodded; Hunk was half-right anyways. Right enough that it wouldn’t matter if he tried to claim Kuron did it. The very careful web of half-truths he’d woven over the past few weeks was starting to come apart at the seams, and every single strand that fell apart felt like a nail in his coffin.

“I’m still lost,” Allura said. “What exactly do you mean by a fox wedding? I assume you’re talking about more than just a sun shower at this point.”

“Well, the legend is that sun showers happen as a result of a fox spirit marrying its true love,” Hunk said. “I thought they were just stories my dad told me - y’know, bedtime stories. But then Shiro came here, and the sun shower happened, and…” He turned to Shiro. “It wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

Everyone’s eyes were on him. Shiro slowly shook his head, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.

“So...you married someone in this house?” Pidge asked.

“Not me,” Shiro weakly protested. “It was...it was Kuron. The fox spirit. He’s the one who initiated the marriage bond.”

“With who?” Lance asked.

“Please…” Shiro said softly. “Please don’t make me tell. I’m trying to break it off, please, don’t make me say it…”

“If you’re trying to break it off, I think whoever it is deserves to know,” Pidge said.

“Whoever it is might be able to help,” Allura suggested.

“We’re not going to make fun of you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Keith said with a shrug. “No one can take away my status as resident ho of the house - even if you did marry someone you’d literally known for like, an hour.”

“Keith, you’re not helping,” Allura sighed.

**_Tell him_ ** , Kuron hissed. **_Tell them. Claim our mate._ **

“No, please…”

“Do the sun showers happen as soon as the kitsune meets their soulmate?” Pidge asked. “Do they have to touch or something?”

“I don’t know,” Hunk said with a shrug. “Not a kitsune.”

“We could narrow it down, if Shiro isn’t going to tell us.”

Shiro shook his head. “Please, don’t…”

**_Tell them tell them tell them!_ **

“Well, it’s not Lance,” Pidge continued, ignoring Shiro’s plea. “Lance didn’t even show up until three days ago. All the rest of us were home at the time, though.” She looked to Allura. “You were giving Shiro a tour of the house! I’ll bet it’s you!”

“Shiro..?” Allura came forward, to kneel in front of him. “Shiro, if it’s me, there’s no need to be ashamed. We can talk about it.”

“Allura, please…”

“We don’t even have to break the bond off, if you don’t want to.” She laid a hand on his. “I mean, I would have liked to be courted a bit first, call me old-fashioned, but - ”

With a snarl, Shiro pulled his hand out from under Allura’s.

“ _It’s not you!_ ”

She jumped to her feet, hands ready to cast a spell, or fight back. Shiro shrank back in his chair - he’d lost it, for a second. Kuron had slipped in where his control was starting to slip, and he’d snapped at Allura. What would have happened if he hadn’t been tied to the chair?

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Kuron, he...I slipped, and he took control. That’s….I can’t trust him, that’s why I can’t tell you who the bond is with. Please…”

“It’s me.”

The kitchen went dead silent. Shiro looked up, finding that Keith was now staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted slightly, half surprise, half shock of revelation.

**_Yes,_ ** Kuron said. **_Yes. My mate. Our mate._ **

“I remember it started raining while I was out in the greenhouse with Allura and Shiro,” Keith continued quietly. “Right after Shiro and I shook hands. It’s me.”

He took a step forward, then another, coming to stand in front of Shiro’s chair. He didn’t kneel, as Allura did, but looked down on him with those piercing violent eyes.

“Did you initiate a marriage bond with me?”

All of Shiro’s readings had described fae as clever creatures, capable of weaving carefully-worded, binding magic, sniffing out tricks and lies. Shiro wasn’t entirely sure how much of it was true and how much had been fabricated over time, but looking into Keith’s eyes, he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie to Keith even if he’d wanted to.

“Yes.”

The tension and silence was broken by a very loud, braying laugh from Pidge, who doubled over, smacking her palm on the table hard enough to make the cups there wobble dangerously.

“Oh...my...God!” she choked out, gasping for air. “You...you just...you...married...Keith! Keith! Of all the people, you fucking...you picked Edgy Mc-My-Chemical-Romance over here! Oh my God...oh my God...I can’t even…”

“I...I didn’t have any say in this…” Shiro spluttered, feeling his cheeks go warm. “This wasn’t up to me, this was all up to Kuron, he was the one who initiated the marriage bond...Keith, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Keith continued to study him with a carefully neutral expression that he couldn’t read. It did nothing to help the sinking feeling in his gut.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Keith finally asked.

“I couldn’t, I...I didn’t even know what to say…”

“Does Kuron know...what I am? Do you?”

Shiro nodded weakly. “Since the first day I was here.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of them. Pidge was still laughing herself stupid, and Lance had joined in with the laughter of someone who didn’t quite know what was going on, but didn’t want to be left out. That didn’t matter to Shiro, however; right now, his world had shrunk down to just him and Keith - Keith, who was looking at him with that unreadable expression that left his stomach in knots. Would Keith reject him outright? Stew over the bond before making a decision? Or...or would he accept the bond? Shiro wasn’t sure if that would make things better or worse.

He didn’t get Keith’s answer, however.

“You...can’t be serious.”

Shiro looked up. Allura was shaking her head, her expression none too pleased. He had to admit, he had expected Allura to blast him immediately; Keith may not have been Allura’s biological child, but she seemed very close to him and Pidge both, and Shiro wouldn’t blame her for being protective of Keith. Judging from the look she was currently giving Shiro, however, he was pretty sure he was about to get an earful.

Keith turned to Allura with a sigh. “What?”

“A marriage bond?” Allura asked with a pointed look at the both of them. “You’re - ”

“Not a child,” Keith interrupted. “I’ve been a legal adult for almost a year now.”

“You’re still in high school, you can’t get married!”

“Allura, it’s the twenty-first century,” Keith said. “It’s not like Shiro expects me to drop out of school and stay home barefoot and pregnant.”

“You can’t even get pregnant,” Shiro said.

“This is a valid point.”

“You’re not seriously considering marrying him, are you?” Allura asked. “You two barely know each other!”

“I’m not saying we need to go rushing over to the courthouse or the chapel or anything,” Keith said with a shrug. “I think you’re overreacting a bit, though.”

“No,” Shiro said. “No...she’s...she’s right…”

**_What?_ **   Kuron snapped. **_What are you doing?_ **

“We barely know each other,” Shiro continued, curling his hands into fists, pressing his nails into his palms to try and ground himself, to keep Kuron from lashing out through him. “It’s...it’s not fair to you...for me to rope you into a marriage…”

**_No!_ **   Kuron bellowed. **_You little brat! If you break off this bond, I will make you suffer for it!_ **

“There’s a way…” Shiro ground out through gritted teeth, “to break...the bond…”

“There is?” Allura asked.

**_NO!_ **

He nodded. “My grandfather...he told me that...that…”

“What?” Allura asked, moving in closer. Shiro scrunched his eyes closed, a sharp spike of pain lancing through his head. He could feel something wet welling up in the palms of his hands; when he opened his hands from the fists they’d been clenched into, his nails were claws, and had left four crescent-shaped cuts in his palms.

“I would suggest taking a step back,” Keith said lightly.

“Is he going to like, Hulk out?” Pidge asked - but her voice sounded strange, oddly distorted, as if they were both underwater.

**_You are not going to keep me from my mate,_ ** Kuron growled.

“Shiro, how do we break the bond?” Allura asked, her voice also oddly distorted.

**_I will have what is mine._ **

“Allura, I don’t think this is a good time…”

Between one heartbeat, one breath, and the next, Shiro was gone. He could feel himself lunge against the ropes of light that bound him to the chair, heard the audible snap of his jaw as he lashed out at Allura and Keith, but he had no control over his body, over the words that spilled over his lips.

“ _You will not break this bond!_ ” Kuron snarled. “ _He is mine!_ ”

“Holy shit, I was just kidding about the Hulk thing,” Pidge said, eyes wide behind her glasses.

Hands came down on his - Kuron’s? - shoulders. Hunk had moved behind him, holding him to the chair. Kuron jerked violently, but Hunk’s grip remained firm, yellowed, dagger-like claws growing from his nail beds, pressing in with the threat to break skin.

“Hey man, calm down,” he said. “Nobody here wants to hurt you, but you’ve got to calm down.”

“ _Fuck that, and fuck you!_ ” Kuron spat, trying to twist out of Hunk’s grip. “ _You will not take my mate from me!_ ”

“What’s happened to him? Why is he acting this way?” Allura asked.

“Pidge, give me the _hoshi no tama_ ,” Keith instructed.

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“Just give me the damn thing!”

Pidge tossed the _hoshi no tama_ to Keith; Shiro watched, through a body that was no longer under his control, as Keith approached, eyeing him warily. Kuron stopped thrashing, however, as Keith got in close.

“Aisuru,” he purred, leaning forward, tilting his head up to look at Keith. “Aisuru, _don’t let them take me away. I_ chose _you._ ”

Keith nodded. “I know.”

He leaned in, then slipped the _hoshi no tama_ around Kuron’s neck.

The effect was instantaneous. With a feeling like being dragged up from the depths of the ocean, Shiro was dragged back into control of his own body. Kuron was back in his subconscious, howling and cursing a vicious streak, but no longer in control. He gulped in a deep breath, sagging against the light-rope that held him to the chair.

“Shiro?”

He glanced up. Keith was still standing there, watching him apprehensively. Allura hovered close behind Keith, equally apprehensive.

“What was that?” she asked.

“K-Kuron…” Shiro gasped. “He...he had complete control…”

His stomach turned; the sharp jump back into his skin, after Kuron’s sudden and mutinous takeover, had left him with that nauseating feeling of not quite fitting in his skin right.

“Hey, you okay?” Keith asked.

“Ohhhh man I know that look,” Hunk groaned. “You guys and gonna want a bucket or something and you’re gonna want it now.”

Allura plucked a bucket out of mid-air, passing it to Keith, who stuck it under Shiro’s chin with just enough time for Shiro to bring up a mouthful of watery saliva, a precursor of much worse things to come.

“Ohhhh I can’t watch,” Hunk groaned, stuffing his fingers into his ears and turning away.

“What in Hecate’s name was all that?” Allura asked.

“I don’t think now’s the best time to ask him questions,” Keith said. Unable to grab the bucket himself due to his hands still being tied, Shiro opted for sticking his entire face into the bucket as he began to heave forcefully. His entire body contracted, and he vomited spectacularly into the bucket. The uncomfortable feeling subsided, but he kept his head in the bucket just for good measure.

“Dude, his eyes were _yellow_ ,” Pidge said. “That was some freaky shit.”

“That,” Shiro panted, lifting his head from the bucket, “was Kuron. I...I slipped again.”

“He took over,” Keith said.

Shiro nodded weakly. “That’s why...I-I have to...break the bond…”

“Is there a way to break the bond?” Allura asked.

Another nod. “My grandfather...he told me that...that the king of the Seelie Court...he can break the bond…”

“The king of the Seelie Court?” Allura repeated, exchanging glances with Keith.

“Yes,” Shiro said. “You can ask my grandfather...if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” Keith said quietly. “We all do. _Right?_ ”

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance all chimed in with nods and affirmative exclamations. Keith leveled a look at Allura, and she nodded, though she still looked a little dubious.

“I...believe you,” she said.

Shiro gave all of them a tired smile. “T-Thank you.”

“All right,” Allura said with a weary-sounding sigh, “let’s get those bonds off of you and see if we can still salvage this dinner…”

* * *

 “Shiro, what are you doing?”

Shiro looked up from the suitcase he’d been packing. Keith stood in the doorway in boxers and a shirt that he suspected Keith had cropped with a pair of scissors. A black-splattered towel was draped over his shoulders, his now-black hair dripping wet, tendrils of it clinging to his forehead and the sides of his face.

“Oh, um…” Shiro gestured vaguely to the suitcase and to his belongings, scattered both in it and around it. “Packing.”

“Why?”

“Well, um…” He sighed, leaning back slightly, wincing when the movement put pressure on the base of his tails. “After the fucking disaster that was tonight, I don’t think Allura wants me around.”

Keith’s expression darkened. “She kicked you out?”

“What? No, she didn’t kick me out, but…” Shiro shook his head. “You saw how she looked at me. She doesn’t trust me. Can’t say I really blame her.”

Keith didn’t say anything, but he padded into the room. To Shiro’s surprise, he plopped down on the floor next to him; this close, stripped of his usual black eyeliner and lipstick, his wet hair curling slightly, Keith looked younger - less cynical, more vulnerable.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” Keith said. “If I’d had any idea that taking your _hoshi no tama_ would have caused um…” He gestured vaguely to Shiro’s ears, his nine tails, “everything that happened in the kitchen, I wouldn’t have taken it.”

Shiro shrugged. “It’s what I deserve, for being dishonest. For hiding the truth.”

“I mean, in case you didn’t notice, you’re not the only one who didn’t exactly tell the truth about what they were,” Keith said.

“I’ve known for a while, though.”

“About the fae thing, yes.” Keith glanced over at Shiro’s desk, still covered in books about the Courts and the Fair Folk. “But...there’s more to it than that.”

“You’re the heir to the Seelie Court.”

Keith blinked. “How...how’d you know that?”

“I heard you tell Hunk and Pidge, the night Lance arrived.”

Keith stared at the wall over Shiro’s air mattress for a long moment, then shook his head. “Son of a _bitch_ . Hunk was _right_ \- you _were_ listening. I guess I owe him a pretty big apology.”

“So your father’s king of the Seelie Court?”

“Not father,” Keith corrected. “Grandfather.”

“But you’re...directly next in line?”

“It’s very complicated, and I don’t want to bore you with the details,” Keith said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “So your grandpa said that mine can break the marriage bond?”

Shiro nodded. “He tried to break it himself, but he couldn’t when I told him you were fae.”

“Why not?”

“Because apparently I’m now an ally to the Seelie Court. My whole family is - me, my grandfather, and my little brother. Grandfather said that the implications of him attempting to break the bond would cause even more turmoil between the two courts.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “There wouldn’t be so much turmoil if those Unseelie Court asholes would stay in their realm and stop causing drama, but good fucking luck with that.”

“Right,” Shiro said lightly, because it sounded like Keith’s feelings about the Unseelie Court were based in personal experience that he didn’t want to get involved in. “Specifically, my grandfather said that the king of whichever court you serve would be able to break the bond - like a royal pardon, I guess. Seeing as you’re the heir to the Seelie Court, I don’t think I have to guess too hard about which king and court you serve.”

Keith snorted out a laugh, and Shiro’s stomach did a little somersault. Kuron was right - Keith was really cute when he smiled.

“No,” Keith said. “I guess you don’t.”

They fell quiet for a moment, Shiro folding a few more shirts into his suitcase. A gorgeous, long-haired black cat wandered in, trotting over happily when Keith clicked his tongue.

“C’mere, Kuro.” He lifted the cat into his lap, watching Shiro. “What will you do once my grandpa breaks the marriage bond?”

Shiro sighed, scratching behind one of his ears. “I was planning on going back to Japan. Going home. I...I need to train with my grandfather. I need to learn how to control Kuron.”

“You mean...you’re not going to stay?” Keith asked, frowning.

“I can’t stay.”

“What about your job? Your students?”

Shiro’s laugh was hollow. “Keith, I _lied_ . I don’t have a job. I don’t work. I _can’t_ work.”

“Wait, seriously?”

He nodded. “I’ve spent the past month either at the library or in a coffee shop all day, actively trying to avoid Allura. I can’t work - I don’t have permits or papers, like Hunk does. I’m not even remotely close to being a citizen, or having the documents needed to legally work, or even live here. All I have his my Japanese driver’s license and my passport, and we’re getting to a point where those aren’t going to be enough.”

“How the hell do you pay the rent?”

“My grandfather’s been sending money,” Shiro sighed. “But I can’t keep doing that to him. The shrine isn’t exactly making us rich, and he still has to take care of my brother, Ryou...it’s not fair to him, which is why I have to get this fixed. I have to get the bond broken.”

He moved to stand, but Keith placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Whoa,” he said. “Slow your roll. We can’t just waltz into the Seelie Court and demand an audience with the king.”

“But...but you’re heir to the throne,” Shiro protested weakly.

“Even the Crown Prince has to go through certain channels,” Keith said. “Although I’m sure Gramps would love to see me again, the fact of the matter is, it may take me a few days to actually get in touch with him about...about this.”

Shiro sighed, fisting his marked arm into his forelock. A few days was definitely not ideal - but Keith was his only avenue to the Seelie King, and if it would take a few days for the Crown Prince to get an audience, he couldn’t imagine how long it would take him, an average kitsune and stranger to the Seelie Court, to get one.

“So...that arm’s not actually a prosthetic?”

“Hmm?” Shiro glanced at his arm. “Oh. No, it’s, um...it’s still attached. I just disguise it. So no one sees it like this.”

“What happened?”

“It’s where Kuron...entered? It’s his physical mark.” Shiro scoffed. “He leaves a mark on everyone he body-shares with, but he couldn’t have put mine somewhere that I could hide it.”

“I mean, it doesn’t look that bad,” Keith said. “Kind of a shock at first, but...you get used to it.”

“Mmm.” Shiro turned his attention back to his suitcase, halfheartedly picking up another shirt and sticking it in. He moved to grab another and found Keith staring at him, nose wrinkled in confusion.

“What?”

“I said it would be a few days before I can get a hold of my grandpa,” Keith said. “Why are you still packing?”

“It’s not safe for me to stay here,” Shiro said. “I don’t want to hurt any of you guys. I’m...dangerous…”

“Okay, I’m just going to cut you off right here,” Keith said, holding up a finger to silence Shiro. “First of all, I’m the house’s resident emo, so if anyone gets to act all broody and tortured, it’s me. Second of all, you’re not dangerous. You don’t even look dangerous. In fact, you look...well...fuzzy. And cuddly.” Keith paused. “Can I pet your tails? Like, not even joking.”

“Um...okay? Sure?”

With a gleeful smile, Keith took the tail nearest to him and laid it across his lap. Kuro the cat gave an offended-sounding meow and jumped out of his lap, poking her head into Shiro’s suitcase. Keith smoothed a hand over the tail he held, gasping softly.

“Oh my God, it’s so soft,” he murmured. “It’s like petting a cloud. Oh man.”

“A-Anyways,” Shiro stammered out, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. “I just...I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay here. I mean...you saw what happened in the kitchen.”

“I did,” Keith said, “but I’m not making the connection between what I saw and you feeling like you’re too dangerous to stay here.”

“I lost control.”

“And you took it back.”

“If Pidge and Allura hadn’t had me tied to that chair, Kuron could have...I could have...I could have hurt someone…”

“But the fact of the matter is that you didn’t hurt anyone,” Keith said. His fingers were still smoothing over one of Shiro’s tails, but his gaze was fixed on Shiro, steady and unwavering. “Let me let you in on a little secret, Shiro: Everyone in this house is capable of hurting someone.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You sure about that?”

“Okay, so...at this point in time, and stuck in the form he’s in, Lance might be more of a danger to himself than anything else,” Keith conceded. “But other than that? Absolutely. Pidge can control people’s minds, did you know that?”

“What? No…”

“Mhm. If she wanted to, she could strip the both of us of our will and use us as meat puppets. Allura, meanwhile, is so old and so powerful, she could blow us all to Kingdom come with half a thought because she’s the daughter of _motherfucking Merlin himself._ And, of course, despite his passive ways and delicious home cooking, we can’t discount the fact that Hunk is a werewolf and living in our goddamn basement.”

“And you?”

“Me? I play with magical knives and am constantly one really shitty day away from defecting to the Unseelie Court and making life a living hell for everyone I know and love.” Keith gave a small, rueful chuckle. “My point is, we’re all dangers to each other - but only if we choose to be. Do you want Kuron to be in control?”

“Absolutely not!”

“There you go. If you’re actively working to keep Kuron under control, then you’re not a danger to anyone. Besides...even if, for whatever reason, Kuron took control, I don’t think he’d hurt me, given what he called me in the kitchen.”

It took every ounce of self-control Shiro had not to blush to the roots of his hair. “W-What do you mean?”

“Dude,” Keith said with a wry smile. “My grandfather was half-Japanese, and I’ve been studying Japanese for three years. You don’t think I don’t know that _aisuru_ means _beloved_?”

Shiro’s only response was a choked noise and blushing to the roots of his hair. Keith laughed, a real, genuine laugh this time, and despite his embarrassment, Shiro joined in.

After a few minutes of laughing, they both settled down; the tight knot that had been ever-present in Shiro’s gut for the past month or more had, surprisingly, eased slightly. He picked up another shirt, but didn’t put it into his suitcase.

“Look,” Keith said quietly, “whatever you do after my grandfather breaks the bond, that’s up to you. But until then...you should stay.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. “It would be...weird, with you gone. Besides….I think Kuro would miss you.”

Shiro looked, finding that while he had been talking to Keith, Kuro had climbed into his suitcase, and was now curled up on his folded shirts, kneading and purring contentedly. Shiro couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, then...I suppose I could stay. Wouldn’t want to put anyone out. Especially not Kuro.”

Keith smiled, and Shiro swore he could see Keith blushing slightly, even as he ducked his head, letting his drying curls hide his face slightly.

“That sounds like a good plan, Shiro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kuro_ \- "Black" in Japanese. Kuro is a [Nebelung cat](https://kittentoob.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/Nebelung_6.jpg) who now is bonded with Shiro.
> 
> I will do my best to try to keep Kuro the cat and Kuron the fox-demon from getting too mixed up.
> 
> [Holy shit guys, I have a Twitter now!](https://twitter.com/celticaurora) Follow me there, or [come find me on Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com)


	13. The Short End of the Stick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets screwed, and not in the fun way.

“Ugh. Remind me again why I’m here?”

Pidge gave Keith a strange look as they settled into the worn chairs of the auditorium. “Because it was either this or a week’s worth of detention.”

“I still don’t know how the hell Sanda thinks she can just...pull that out of her ass,” Keith said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t even do anything to Brayden. It was a  _ joke _ .”

Unfortunately for Keith, Helen Miller hadn’t seen his fortune-telling act as a joke - and she had harassed Dr. Sanda, the principal, and Dr. Iverson, Keith’s administrator, to the point that they had pulled Keith out of art class and dragged him down to the office to make a deal: Either he did volunteer hours for the PTO and Senior Class’s joint Fall Festival carnival, or he spent a week in after-school detention for “disrupting the learning environment.”

“Yeah, well, Helen’s got everyone around here by the balls, and Sanda and Iverson are no exception.” Pidge shrugged. “You should have known she was going to pitch a fit about you being a filthy, filthy heathen.”

Keith gave Pidge the finger. Her only response was to pull out of her phone, opening what he was pretty sure was Fruit Ninja.

“Wait,” Keith said, “why are _you_ here?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you at this meeting? I’m the only one who has to be here.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe I want to be involved? This is my last year of government-mandated formative education, and maybe I just want to make it fulfilling.”

“If any word of that is true, I’ll fucking eat my shoes.”

“Allura’s here,” Pidge said, pointing to the distinctive white bun three rows up, “and I need a ride home. Everyone old enough to have a car had work or some shit, and I will be damned if I’m riding the bus home.”

Keith leaned forward, looking towards the back of the room. “Where’s Lance? Did he take the bus home?”

He winced at the thought; Lance was just barely adjusting to public high school - which was fair, because high school was confusing enough to someone who had lived through twelve years of public schooling, much less someone who had spent all their formative years in the ocean. The thought of Lance trying to figure out the school bus was terrifying, and would likely result in him being dropped off Hecate only knew where.

“He had to work. Morgan gave him a ride.”

“Oh. Good.”

Up on the stage, a girl with square-rimmed glasses and dark hair that looked purple under the light rapped on the podium that had been set up, getting the attention of the few adults and students who were still talking. They all fell silent, settling into chairs. On stage, four chairs had been set up behind the podium; two teenagers occupied chairs, one a skinny white girl with a blonde pixie cut, the other, a handsome black boy with short dreads, who looked like he could bench Keith without breaking a sweat. And sitting next to the boy was none other than Helen Miller, practically on the edge of her chair in her desire to sit as far away from the boy as possible. Keith wasn’t sure whether to laugh, or to shake his head because the woman really was that racist.

“Good afternoon, everyone, thank you for coming out!” the girl at the podium chirped - a bit sugar-sweet, but she seemed genuine. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Nadia Rizavi, and I am president of the senior class. Let’s hear it for the class of 2020!”

There was a smatter of polite applause. Keith rolled his eyes. Pidge didn’t even look up from her phone.

“Today, I’m joined by our class vice-president, Ryan Kinkade” - She indicated the boy - “and Ina Leifsdottir, our class treasurer” - that was the blonde girl - “as well as president of the Parent-Teacher Organization, Mrs. Helen Miller. This meeting is to discuss the initial logistics of our joint-effort project, the Fall Festival carnival!”

Rizavi continued on, Keith only focusing enough to catch snatches of speech - Halloween, trick-or-treating alternative, fun for the whole family or some shit like that. Sanda and Iverson may have forced him into going to this meeting and helping out with whatever festival nonsense the senior class and the PTO cooked up, but they never said that he had to pay attention. So instead, he watched Pidge play Fruit Ninja, reaching out every now and again to slice fruit - or, in one particular moment, to slice a bomb for the satisfaction of watching it blow up and seeing the face Pidge made as she struggled not to beat the living shit out of him in the middle of a meeting.

There was another round of polite applause, and Keith glanced up to see Helen take the podium with a polite, forced smile at Rizavi. God, it must have really irked her that both the president and vice-president of the class were brown kids. Keith wasn’t sure whether that disgusted him, or just made him want to laugh at this stupid, small-minded woman.

“Yes, thank you, Ms. Rizavi,” Helen began. “Now, as was previously stated, the goal of the Fall Festival carnival is to provide the children of the community with a fun, safe alternative to Halloween and trick-or-treating…”

Helen must have been one of those parents that never let her kids go trick-or-treating, if she thought there was something remotely unsafe about it. He wondered if she even celebrated Halloween at all - his previous foster family, who had been militantly Christian, hadn’t, claiming the holiday was “of the devil.” It was a bullshit claim, and Keith had known it from the time he was fairly little - Halloween was an excuse to eat too much candy, drink too much booze, wear slutty costumes, and throw a little bit of toilet paper onto the lawns of the assholes who gave out stupid shit like toothbrushes or pennies. Even its so-called demonic pagan predecessor, Samhain, was meant for celebrating the end of the harvest by having giant-ass parties that had nothing to do with summoning demons. 

“Now, of course, Halloween falls on a weekday this year,” Helen continued. “And we know the weekend before Halloween can be busy, as that’s when most local churches host their Trunk-or-Treats, so the PTO has voted to hold the Fall Festival Carnival on Wednesday, the twenty-third of October.”

Keith snapped out of his reverie. Pidge’s head snapped up, her eyebrows raised as she looked to Keith.

The twenty-third of October was sacred for two reasons.

The first was that it was his birthday.

And the second was it was the night of the Wild Hunt.

As Crown Prince of the Seelie Court, the expectation was that Keith would ride at his grandfather’s side in the Hunt, both to see and be seen - after all, the Wild Hunt was one of the biggest nights for both Seelie and Unseelie alike. But there was more to it than just attending the Hunt; it was a task that Keith had always enjoyed, getting to ride in the Hunt. When he was younger, living in foster care, he had loved the thrill of sneaking out of his foster parents’ house to go galavant with what they would have considered creatures of the Devil. Now that he was older, and out of that particular nightmare of a home, he just enjoyed the freedom of it - riding through the woods, through towns and cities and wilderness, not worrying about school or homework or Honerva and her beasts, or thinking about having to Choose. 

Keith looked up to the podium. To Helen. Despite the fact that he and Pidge were all the way in the back, a good few rows behind the rest of her audience, she was looking directly at Keith. And maybe he was being paranoid, but there was something in those bright blue eyes of hers that told Keith that she knew exactly what she was doing.

_ Fuck this. Fuck the Fall Festival, and Helen, and the rest of the stupid PTO and the senior class. _ Keith stood and started down the row with the intention of marching straight to Dr. Sanda’s office and telling her he’d gladly serve a  _ month’s _ detention if it meant not having to be anywhere near Helen Miller.

“And, of course, what’s a festival without a main event to draw out the crowds?” Helen continued from up front. “Mr. Kogane, could you please come up here?”

Keith froze. The group up front broke out into hissing whispers. Up front, Rizavi, Leifsdottir, and Kinkade all exchanged confused looks. Keith saw Allura turn at look at him, brow wrinkled in confusion. 

“Oh come now, Mr. Kogane, there’s no need to be shy,” Helen said, beckoning him forward.

He could still leave. Could still walk out of the auditorium. But Helen knew what she was doing. She’d put him on public display, and there was no way in hell he could hope to get out of this unseen and unheard. Besides, he was too much of a stubborn pain in the ass to do the smart thing, which would have been to leave.

So he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and clunked his way up to the front in his falling-apart Doc Martens. Helen waited for him at the edge of the stage, beckoning, with a smile a spider might make upon finding out that it had caught a fly. He took the steps onto the stage slowly, wondering if this was what old-time criminals felt like as they climbed the steps to the gallows.

As soon as he was up on stage and in close proximity with Helen, she put an arm around his shoulder; it took everything he had in him not to squirm away, and he was a little surprised that she didn’t burst into flames from touching him.

“For those of you who don’t know him, this is Keith Kogane, Allura’s foster son,” Helen began, “and he’ll be performing a little magic show for our visitors at the carnival.”

Keith froze for the second time in as many minutes. He could have imagined many things that Helen could have done - to get back at him, to embarrass him, whatever it was she wanted to do - but this was one hell of a curveball. 

“You will be performing for us, won’t you, Keith?” Helen asked. Her grip on his shoulder tightened as she asked, to the point where Keith was clenching his jaw to stop from making a sound. For a manicured, fussy PTO president, Helen had a surprisingly strong grip.

“Of course,” Keith finally responded, with a smile that he hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt.

“I thought as much,” Helen said, with a chuckle that sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. “After all, I know you’re quite fond of magic.”

She laughed again, and a few members of the PTO joined in, all sounding as uncomfortable as Keith felt. She finally released his shoulder, and he staggered back to his seat with one phrase looping through his mind on a terrible, gut-churning repeat:

_ She knows _ .

* * *

 

“I’m telling you guys, she _knows._ ”

“I don’t really think this is the conversation to be having right here and now,” Pidge said, looking nervously back towards Coran’s camper-van abomination. 

It was a surprisingly pleasant and sunny Saturday morning; Pidge and Hunk had tagged along on Keith and Coran’s weekly trip to the cunningly-disguised shadow market. Coran had put them to work immediately, hauling folding tables and a seemingly endless number of boxes filled with Coran’s woodcrafts and Keith’s beauty products. Fortunately, the former was still in the van, and was either deaf or blissfully oblivious to the conversation the three teenagers were having outside.

“You saw her though - right, Pidge?” Keith said, taking a very ugly carved gnome out of a box and setting it on the table. “You saw the way she looked at me when she called me up to the stage, right?”

“I mean, I definitely saw her call you up, and I heard what she said about you liking magic,” Pidge said. “But I kind of assumed that was meant to be a dig at the fact that it was ‘magic’ that got you into trouble in the first place.”

Keith shook his head. “I mean, it was, but...you should have seen the way she looked at me. I swear, she knows. I mean, look at the date she chose for the stupid Fall Carnival. There’s no way she picked that date at random.”

“But how would she have found out?” Hunk asked, not-so-subtly glancing over Keith’s shoulder into the next stall, where Shay was setting up her wares. “I’m assuming you don’t go around telling people you’re a - ”

Keith heard the van creak as Coran stepped out, whistling. He jerked his head in the direction of the van, and Hunk’s eyes went wide.

“Wiccan!” he blurted loudly, as Coran made his way over to the tables. “You know, since people don’t...always take kindly to...um...Wiccans.”

“Well, that’s very rude of them,” Coran remarked, setting down the box he was carrying - this one full of carved woodland creatures. He turned to Keith, putting a hand on his shoulder. “But don’t worry about that here! It doesn’t matter to me if you worship one god, or twelve, or a hundred, or none at all! Just so long as you’re a decent person!”

“Well...thanks,” Keith said.

“Tell you what.” Coran leaned in close with a conspiratorial grin. “Since you guys did all the heavy lifting, how about you go and explore the market a bit? I’ll mind the stall.”

“Thanks,” Keith said with a nod. Getting out of the stall would give him, Pidge, and Hunk a chance to chat with less risk of being overheard.

“You guys go ahead,” Hunk said, glancing over again to Shay’s stall. “I’ll, um...I’ll catch up.”

Pidge shook her head, ducking out from the stall after Keith. The sound of Hunk chatting and Shay giggling gave way to the general chatter of the market as they ventured away from Coran’s booth.

“I think he likes her,” Pidge commented with a grin.

“She’s nice. Hard not to like.” Keith frowned. “I wonder…”

“What?”

“Do you think he can see through her glamour?”

“She’s glamoured?”

Keith raised an eyebrow to Pidge. “You mean you couldn’t see through it?”

“I wasn’t looking that closely!”

“Jesus, chill. I was just curious, since werewolves don’t belong to either court.”

“You saw the eyes he was making at her,” Pidge said. “Probably wouldn’t matter if she had three heads and a tail, he’d still be asking for her number, at least.”

“Well, fortunately for him, she doesn’t have three heads. Or a tail.” Keith grinned a bit. “She’s just...really tall.”

The market was buzzing that morning, people drawn out by the departure from the usual drizzle. Mixed in with the people were glamoured fey; the same centaur policemen Keith had seen on his first day at the market continued to plod up and down the streets, glamour flickering in and out as they trotted past Keith and Pidge. There were plenty of people they recognized, too; a girl from Keith’s art class was selling homemade paints at a stall, and they spotted Nadia Rizavi, along with an older couple who shared her dark hair and glasses, hauling a pumpkin that was about half as big as Rizavi was. 

Keith stopped at a plant stall, run by a wood nymph with bark-brown skin and mossy tendrils of hair, and found himself examining a bonsai tree. He knew they were native to Japan, Shiro’s home country, and wondered if Shiro would like it - and, of course, if he’d be able to keep it alive without killing it. A pet project for him, since he still couldn’t work, due to his lack of visa.

He realized, as he was mulling over the little tree, that he was being watched.

At first, he thought the figure who’d been trailing him was L.S.D., the strange man he’d done the tarot reading for the first day he’d come to the shadow market. The man had approached him for another reading, but he’d caught glimpses of him in the crowd at the market every weekend since. 

But he realized that, given how fussy the man had looked before, it was unlikely he’d resort to hiding in a trench coat and a battered baseball cap. Besides, the figure was too short to be him. 

After leaving the nymph’s stall with the tree (he figured Shiro would like it, and, if not, this would be his way of remembering Shiro when the kitsune was, inevitably, made to forget him) he and Pidge continued down the way, stopping at various stalls even if Keith wasn’t entirely interested in what was there. The figure followed, always being sure to stop at least two stalls away, then to come examine the stall he stopped by. He stopped at a stall whose table was filled with shiny odds and ends; the owner looked human, but Keith could see the vertical, slitted pupils and the ridged horns that sprouted from the woman’s head.

“Ah, the young prince returns,” she said, a wisp of smoke curling from her mouth as she spoke. “I have your order.”

“Hope it didn’t take too much out of you and your friends,” he said, glancing down the row out of the corner of his eye. His stalker had stopped two stalls down, at a vendor whose table was filled with glass jars of honey.

“Nonsense. It’s shedding season, so we have plenty to spare.” The woman’s smile was made of sharp teeth, but not threatening. “Let me go fetch your order.”

“Is this the dragon lady you were telling me about?” Pidge asked.

“Hurik and her flight-mates provide the best scales. The fact that they’re locally-sourced and freely given make them even more potent,” Keith said. “And don’t look now, but...we’re being followed.”

“Huh?”

“Two stalls down. The person in the trench coat and the lumpy baseball cap has been following us since I bought the bonsai tree, at least.”

Pidge looked up, trying vainly to peer two stalls down. Finally, she leaned over the table slightly, nose wrinkling. “That guy looks like some creepy back-alley flasher.”

Keith peered down the row again. This time, the person was distracted, talking to the vendor, who turned around, bent down, and opened a cooler that was under the table. Their stalker leaned forward, giving Keith and Pidge both a good, solid look at the profile of their face. 

“Holy shit,” Pidge breathed.

Their hair may have been shoved up under the baseball cap (which was probably why it looked so lumpy), but Keith knew that face anywhere. His heart plummeted out of his chest as he watched their stalker, their horribly-familiar-looking stalker, take a jar of viscous, suspiciously-red liquid from the vender.

“ _ Helen. _ ”

* * *

 

“You can’t be serious.”

Keith had convinced Coran to drop him, Pidge, and Hunk off at the end of the street on their way back from the market, wanting to discuss what he and Pidge had seen without their landlord listening in. It wasn’t that Coran wasn’t a nice guy - he was, especially since he’d treated them to McDonalds on the way home from the market. But Keith knew they couldn’t afford to have their cover blown, and he would rather not drag Coran into their crazy shit anyways - especially since it seemed to be getting crazier by the second.

“We are, though.” Pidge sucked the dregs of her milkshake out of her cup with a loud, obnoxious slurp. “Like, this isn’t just Keith being paranoid, I saw her too.”

“Eat me,” Keith said.

“I mean, there’s got to be some sort of logical explanation for her being there,” Hunk said. “There were a lot of humans, there. More than half of Shay’s customers today were human.”

“I’m surprised you even noticed Shay’s customers. You seemed way too busy staring at Shay when we left!” Pidge punctuated her statement with loud kissy noises, which made Hunk blush bright red.

“Yeah, there were a lot of humans there,” Keith said, thoughtfully chomping on a fry. “But if it’s an open market filled with humans already, why all the effort to not be seen? Why the hat and the coat?”

“Bad hair day and laundry day?” Hunk suggested.

“She bought something from the vendor,” Keith added. “But it wasn’t honey.”

“Oh no,” Pidge said, shaking her head. “It was definitely blood.”

Hunk went a little green around the gills. “W-Why would she be buying that?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Keith said. “Blood does have its uses in spells and potions, but most of them are...nefarious, to say the least.”

“Ooooh,  _ nefarious _ ,” Pidge said, clapping Keith on the back. “Look at you, using your five-dollar words.”

“Shut up, Pidge.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just happy to see that you actually paid attention in English.”

“Pssht. I always pay attention in English. I’ve had As in that class for forever. Besides, we’re doing  _ Macbeth _ right now, and  _ Macbeth _ is the shit. How could I  _ not _ be paying attention?”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Hunk cut in. “Helen was in the market and she was buying blood - do we know if it was human or not?”

“We don’t, and that...complicates things,” Pidge said. “Different types of blood are used very differently.”

“Reptile blood does have some benign uses,” Keith said through a mouth of mostly-cold fries.

“Hey! Another big-boy word!”

“Pidge…”

“Okay, okay. Anyways. Blood magic is a very hazy area of magic. As Keith said, there are benign potions and spells that call for the use of blood, mostly what’s considered lower-order creatures like reptiles. Beyond that, it gets... _ iffy. _ ”

“Iffy how?” Hunk asked.

“I mean, you start getting into areas of dubious morality,” Pidge said. “Allura refuses to teach me any blood magic - she says I’m too young, and my powers are too juvenile.”

“You can already control minds,” Keith pointed out. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“What I’m more worried about,” Keith interrupted, “is that it’s Helen buying the blood.”

“Yeah, just that strikes me as really weird,” Pidge said, “considering she’s supposed to be some upright hypocritical Christian goody two-shoes who worships the ground that the Westboro Baptist Church walks on.”

“So we need to find out why she’s buying blood. And quickly.” Keith considered the remains of his bag of fries, then offered it to Hunk. “You want the rest, big man?”

Hunk wrinkled his nose, thick brows drawing tight in disgust. “Gross. No. I can’t believe you two actually eat that garbage.”

“I can’t believe we went to McDonalds and you ordered a  _ salad _ ,” Keith said. “I mean, who  _ does _ that?”

“At least I know what the salad is made of!” Hunk protested as they climbed the steps up to the porch. “Have you ever noticed that the cheese on their burgers doesn’t melt? That’s not natural.”

“Yeah, but let’s be real, if we’re eating at McDonalds, we’re not looking to be healthy,” Pidge said, opening the front door and toeing off her lime-green Chucks. Keith and Hunk followed suit with their own shoes.

“Think we should talk to Allura about what you guys saw?” Hunk asked, neatly tucking his boots in next to Shiro’s loafers and Allura’s flats - unlike Keith and Pidge, who left their shoes in a heap on top of Lance’s flip-flops. 

“Probably a good idea,” Pidge said. “Maybe she can get close enough to Helen to find out what’s going on.”

“Sounds good to me. The less I have to deal with that bitch, the better.” Keith cupped his mouth with a hand. “Hey Allura, we’re home!”

“Keith,” Allura called down the hall, voice tight, “you have a visitor.”

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk all exchanged looks. They didn’t really get visitors to the house; the only people who Keith could really think would come by looking for him were Morgan and his crew - whom Allura liked - or Helen - which would explain why Allura sounded like she was three seconds away from strangling someone.

Keith headed for the den, where he’d heard Allura’s voice come from. When he stepped in, he saw Allura first, seated stiffly on the couch. The room itself appeared to be undisturbed, and strangely empty of visitors.

And then, Keith followed Allura’s gaze, to a chair near the couch. On the chair, a black cat the size of a basset hound was sprawled, one leg high in the air and head buried between its legs, apparently going to town on its privates. After a moment, the cat lifted its head, meeting Allura’s gaze with a pair of brilliant yellow eyes.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Princess,” the cat drawled, voice surprisingly deep and human-like. “If you could do it, you would.”

“Oh no,” Keith groaned, making a face. “Not you.”

“Ahhh, there’s the little prince.” The cat hopped onto the back of the chair, making it wobble slightly. “Kept me waiting long enough.”

“What the fuck is that?” Pidge asked from behind Keith.

“Pidge,” Allura said, still tense, “this is the Cat Sidhe.”

“Sup?”

“What are you doing here?” Keith spat.

“Oooh, touched a nerve, haven’t I, little princeling?” Cat Sidhe smirked - or, rather, did the closest thing a cat could do to smirking. “I’ve been sent to deliver a message.”

“Then deliver it and get out.”

“Is that normally how you greet a guest?” Cat Sidhe shook his head. “What’s got your panties in a twist, Keithy-Cat?”

Keith snarled, flashing fangs. “ _ Do not call me that. _ ”

“Just say your piece and go,” Allura said, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “I don’t need a fight.”

“I’m not the only getting all hot and bothered, Princess,” Cat Sidhe insisted.

“Don’t you mean hot under the collar?” Hunk asked.

“I know what I said.”

Hong strolled into the room, brushing up against Keith’s ankles with an inquisitive meow. Cat Sidhe perked up, leaning over the edge of the chair.

“I’d know that sultry little meow anywhere...Melpomene, is that you?”

The change was instantaneous. One moment, Hong had been happily brushing against Keith’s legs, the next, she had clawed her way up his leg onto his shoulder, hissing and spitting at Cat Sidhe, back arched and hackles up.

“Oh don’t be like that, Melly, you know you love me,” Cat Sidhe wheeled.

Hong hissed again, growling low in her throat. Allura sighed, rubbing her temples.

“This is why I don’t like you coming around. You upset the familiars.”

“They know they love me.” Cat Sidhe looked to Hong. “Isn’t that right, Melly?”

“They’d probably like you better if you didn’t sexually harass them every single goddamn time you come over,” Keith snapped.

“I’m not apologizing.”

Drawn by the noise, Verde and Kōwhai wandered in, the former from the kitchen and the latter up from Hunk’s room in the basement. Cat Sidhe grinned.

“Thalia! Polyhymnia!”

Both cats hissed at once; Kōwhai darted for Hunk, leaping from the floor to his shoulder in one go. Verde scrambled for Pidge, yowling once behind her ankles.

“I, uh, get the feeling they don’t like him,” Hunk said, trying to soothe the now-hissing Kōwhai without getting his fingers bitten off.

“No one likes him,” Keith ground out.

“Nonsense, the ladies love me,” Cat Sidhe hissed.

Verde yowled loudly again. Cat Sidhe peered down at her; if he were able, he looked as if he’d have raised an eyebrow.

“Poly, I’ve told you, those are not my kittens. Calliope needs to understand that.”

“Cat Sidhe,” Allura said, voice tighter than before, “deliver your message and leave. I will not have you staying here and upsetting my familiars.”

“So I guess there’s no chance of a conjugal visit?”

All three cats hissed loudly, and the look in Allura’s eyes could have killed.

“I was kidding! Learn to take a joke…” Cat Sidhe cleared his throat, turning his gaze on Keith. “Akira Kogane, Crown Prince of the Seelie Court, I come bearing a message from His Majesty Kolivan, King of the Seelie Court, Lord of Summer, Ruler of the Day, yada yada, your pops has a really long-ass title and I always screw it up.”

“What does my grandfather want?” Keith asked, wary.

“He wishes to invite you and your betrothed to the Seelie Court” - Cat Sidhe broke off, eyeing Keith critically. - “You’re engaged now? She must be blind.”

“Get on with it!”

“Yeesh, temper.” He cleared his throat again and continued. “Anyways, you two are invited to the Seelie Court for afternoon tea one week hence. That means one week from now, for some of our slower students.”

“Fuck you. I know what ‘hence’ means.”

“Good. Tea. One week hence.”

Keith’s finger curled into tight fists, the invitation leaving him frozen. An afternoon tea meant that he would not be having a private audience with his grandfather, but instead, would be subjecting himself and Shiro to an entire gods-damned family ordeal in order for him to have a five-minute conversation with his grandfather. And where Keith’s immediate fae family was, trouble was always soon to follow. The very idea of all of his family drama being paraded out for Shiro to see made his stomach turn.

“Absolutely not.”

“What?” Allura turned to look at him with furrowed brows.

“Whoa,” Pidge said. “Are you...allowed to tell the king no?”

“I can, and I will.” Keith turned back to Cat Sidhe, jabbing a finger at him. “Tell my grandfather that I am not dragging Shiro into our family bullshit.”

“Mmm, I can’t do that, princeling,” Cat Sidhe drawled. “Not if I value my hide, anyways, which, you know, I’m rather fond of it.”

“Well, you’re going to tell him that, because I am not going, and that’s final.”

“Look, kid, maybe you can mouth off to the Seelie King, but that doesn’t exactly fly for us lower-order creatures. I suggest you revise your answer, because if you think I’m waltzing back into court and telling Kolivan that, you must be stupid as well as - !”

Keith grabbed Cat Sidhe by the scruff of his neck; despite his size, he was able to heft the giant cat into the air. He started for the front door, one purpose in mind: To get the unwanted visitor out.

“Hey! W-What are you doing? Put me down! Put me down you little sparkly asshole! I will slice your jeans to ribbons, you skinny-pants-wearing shit! I’ll pee on all the things you eat! I swear to Hecate you better put me down before I - !”

Ignoring his tirade of protests and threats, Keith opened the front door, tossing Cat Sidhe outside with a mighty heave. Without looking to see if the creature had landed on his feet, Keith slammed the door shut hard enough to rattle the front of the house.

“Keith?” Allura called from the other room; he heard a creak as she stood up from her chair. “Keith, is everything okay..?”

Keith didn’t answer, instead choosing to stomp up the two flights of stairs to the top floor, throwing himself down onto his bed, fuming up at his ceiling.

Throwing out the Cat Sidhe probably hadn’t been the best idea, but the furry little bastard had had it coming, in his mind. He didn’t particularly care about how his grandfather would take his refusal, either; he did not want to drag out their family’s dirty laundry in front of Shiro, just in order to break the marriage bond and give Shiro some peace of mind. It wasn’t fair, to either of them. And he hoped, with Cat Sidhe having been sent packing with his response, that his grandfather would understand that.

His door creaked slightly, and a moment later, Hong hopped up on the bed, butting her head against Keith’s left hand, which lay on the bed next to him.

“What a dick, huh?” he sighed, scratching her ears. 

She mewed in agreement, curling up at Keith’s side. Despite himself, he smiled.

“At least you agree with me.”

* * *

 

“Keith? It’s, uh...time for dinner…”

Keith sighed, sitting up slowly and feeling blood rush to his head. Sulking in his room was not a very princely activity, but that hadn’t stopped him from spending his afternoon sulking, watching the shadows creep across his walls as the sun had gradually started to go down, listening to the sounds of the house around him as Lance came home from work and Shiro came home from wherever he’d gone off to.

“Keith..?” It was Pidge, and she sounded a bit hesitant. He probably owed her, Allura, and Hunk an apology for storming off the way he had - what had happened earlier wasn’t their fault, after all.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

He made his way down from his room, then down to the main floor, rounding the corner of the stairs and strolling into the dining room...only to stop dead, because sitting in his chair with a shit-eating grin on his face, was the Cat Sidhe.

“Well now if that isn’t the face of a slapped nancy.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Keith growled.

“The dumb one let me in,” Cat Sidhe said, gesturing to Lance with a paw.

“Hey!” Lance cried out, looking both offended and hurt. “I’m not dumb!”

“Sorry,” Hunk apologized. “We tried to get him out, we really did. He’s, uh...very stubborn.”

He held out his hands to Keith, the backs of which were covered in angry red cat scratches. A cursory glance at Pidge and Lance’s hands revealed the same thing. Even Allura sported a set of claw marks. Keith scowled at Cat Sidhe.

“You’re a real dick, you know that, right?”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What’s going on in here?” Shiro came into the dining room behind Keith, drawing up short at the sight of Cat Sidhe in Keith’s chair. “Um...did you guys get a new cat?”

“Don’t worry about him. He was just leaving,” Keith insisted through gritted teeth. He made his way towards Cat Sidhe, this time with the intention of throwing him much harder and seeing if the furry little asshole could land on his feet. But before Keith could scruff him, Cat Sidhe lashed out. There was a bright flash of pain as his claws caught the back of Keith’s hand, leaving four long gashes in their wake. Keith yelped and jumped back, clutching at his now-bleeding hand.

“ _ You asshole! _ ”

“You weren’t listening very closely earlier, were you?” Cat Sidhe asked. “I told you, you might be able to waltz into the Seelie Court and say whatever you want to the king, but us lower-order creatures can’t. I don’t particularly want to be the one to tell His Majesty that his only grandson and heir to the Seelie throne in being a punk-ass bitch and doesn’t want to come to a friendly family tea party with his new betrothed, because I have seen His Majesty’s temper, and it is not pretty. So I’m going to stay here until you either change your mind or grow a pair and go over there to tell him no yourself. Got me?”

Keith opened his mouth, an angry tirade building on his tongue, but Shiro spoke before he could.

“Wait...you’ve been invited to the Seelie Court?”

“We both have,” Keith said tightly. “The family wishes to meet my betrothed.”

“Ohhh, you’re his betrothed.” Cat Sidhe hopped down from Keith’s chair, circling Shiro with a critical eye. “Not what I expected from Prince Twinkie over here, but you’re at least a solid eight.”

“And you are a pain in the ass who’s overstayed his welcome,” Keith ground out, bending down to grab at Cat Sidhe, only to get scratched again.

“Do you really want to keep trying this, because it is not going to end well for you.”

Keith snarled, making another attempted grab. Cat Sidhe darted out of Keith’s reach, hopping back into his chair; Keith only just stopped himself from careening head-first into the table. 

“You missed!” Cat Sidhe taunted.

Keith lunged for him again, but was stopped by Shiro’s hand on his shoulders.

“He said...we’d be meeting the Seelie Court royalty, right? Including your grandfather?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“This...this could be the chance,” Shiro said, hope in his eyes. “The chance to talk to your grandfather about breaking the bond.”

Keith paused. He knew how much that would mean to Shiro, who, despite everyone’s reassurances, still moved around the house like he was walking on eggshells ever since the night they’d all met Kuron. Keith really didn’t mind the marriage bond, and would have been more than content to leave it intact for the time being, but he knew it was a big source of anxiety for Shiro.

But he also knew that if he took Shiro to the Seelie Court, he’d be dragging him into an even bigger shitstorm, one made entirely of duty, obligation, and family drama that belonged in a Jerry Springer wet dream. It was something Keith rather not involve Shiro in.

“Oooh, breaking the marriage bond? Sounds like trouble in paradise,” Cat Sidhe drawled, sounding positively entertained.

Keith ignored him, standing up to meet Shiro’s gaze. “I’m not going. Neither of us are.”

“Why not?”

“My family is...complicated.”

Shiro shrugged. “My grandfather let his body be used as a meat sleeve for a fox spirit, and I agreed to do the same. All families are complicated in their own different ways.”

“Mine is...more complicated than most.” Keith sighed. “I don’t want to drag you into all their crap.”

“This may be the only chance to speak to your grandfather about breaking the marriage bond.” Shiro took Keith’s hand, and Keith swallowed hard, trying to ignore the little flip his stomach did when Shiro’s hand slid into his. “I can’t keep dragging you down like this.”

“You’re not dragging me down.” Keith shrugged. “We don’t need to rush to break off the bond, I promise.”

“I know we don’t, but…” Shiro trailed off, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. Keith remembered what Shiro had said to him, the night it had come out that he was a kitsune - he was new to his powers...and he was struggling when it came to dealing with Kuron. Keith gave his hand a reassuring little squeeze.

“You’re worried about Kuron. I get it.”

“I need to go back to my family’s shrine. I need my grandfather’s help.”

“I know,” Keith said. “Just...my family isn’t easy to deal with.”

“That’s okay,” Shiro said. “We can handle it. Together.”

Keith’s smile was rueful. But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which remained dark - and a touch sad. Something about the look in Keith’s eyes made Shiro’s confidence shake in its foundations.

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kowhai_ \- Maori, "yellow." Kowhai is a [ragdoll cat](http://https://www.catster.com/cats-101/about-the-ragdoll-cat) who has bonded with Hunk, despite his werewolf heritage. Kowhai is also a feline incarnation of Thalia, the Muse of Comedy. Meanwhile, Hong (Red) is Melpomene, the Muse of Tragedy and Verde (Green) is Polyhymnia, the Muse of Hymns.
> 
> For more information about the Cat Sidhe (pronounced "kate shee"), [click here.](https://www.catster.com/lifestyle/cats-celtic-folklore-scottish-wildcat-cait-sidhe-sith-samhain-halloween) To be extra amused by this chapter, imagine everything the Cat Sidhe says in the voice of Alucard from Hellsing Ultimate Abridged.
> 
> Don't forget to check me out on [Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/celticaurora)


	14. The Royal Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because a family is royal doesn't mean they don't have their problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy freakin crap, this chapter is almost 11k words long. I hope you guys enjoy this monster.

Shiro re-sorted his crate of jellies for what was probably the fifth of sixth time, fingers lingering on lids, tapping and drumming nervously, stomach not so much full of butterflies as it was angry hornets. The day of the Seelie tea had finally come, and despite his initial excitement, he had become more and more nervous as the week had dragged on. Now, it was all he could do not to keel over in the kitchen as he waited. The fact that Keith was taking longer than usual to get dressed wasn’t helping matters.

Neither was the fact that there apparently was a dress code.

“I’m going to look ridiculous,” he groaned.

“You look fine,” Hunk insisted, reaching out and moving the crate away from Shiro.

“I’m going to meet fae royalty and I am wearing  _ khakis. _ ” Shiro gestured hopelessly to his pants.n “I have no idea what I was thinking. I should have sprung for a tuxedo.”

“Shiro…”

“Why is Keith taking so long? He’s got to be wearing something nicer than this.”

“Nah,” Pidge said from her spot at the kitchen table. “I’ll bet you five bucks he’s going to come down here dressed like a Vegas stripper.”

“I don’t think that he would do that,” Hunk mused. “From what Keith said early, this is a bi-annual event and it is very formal. He then complained that he would have to dress conservatively because anyone who’s anyone is going to be at the initial ceremony. The tea party is for the King, his family only, and any guests personally invited; everyone else gets to drink fairy wine and dance the night away like it’s an actual ball.”

Shiro could only feel the dread from before creeping back up. “So, should I just ditch the idea of bringing the jellies and run over to a store for fancy wine and chocolates?”

In a panic, he’d hit up multiple international markets in Seattle two days ago, filling up at least a full shopping basket at each store with as many four-ounce jars as he could afford with the ongoing sales and the coupons he had brought with him. The one he was currently holding was a deep red and had a picture of a pomegranate on the label. He had chosen the standard jam flavors such as apricot, blueberry, raspberry, and strawberry, but Kuron had egged him into getting some of the more outlandish flavors such as rose, coconut, and even red bean jam. At the time, it had seemed like a good gift. Now, however, he wasn’t quite so sure.

“Actually, what you have is a very considerate gift. Fae in general, especially the Seelie, love sweets,” Allura said as she swept into the kitchen. She gave Shiro a fond smile. “They’re going to love you.”

Shiro gave a nervous, but genuine smile. “Thanks, Allura.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Pidge said. “They’ll probably like you better than Keith, anyways.”

“ _ Pidge. _ ”

“What? It’s not like that’s hard. He’s kind of hard to get along with.”

The stairs creaked, and Lance and Keith’s voices drifted down the stairs. A moment later, with the sound of bare feet on wooden floor, Keith strolled into the kitchen, Lance at his heels.

“All right, I’m ready,” Keith said, still in the process of putting earrings of actual pearl into his ears and looking none too pleased, “let’s go get this clusterfuck of a family gathering over with.”

Shiro’s jaw dropped, mind going blank but for the sound of Kuron screeching in absolute glee. 

Keith’s outfit was...something else. A masterpiece, really, of dark purple leather and delicate lace with flowers woven into its pattern, clinging to Keith like a second skin. It left very little to the imagination; a swath of lace climbed the leg of the suit from ankle to well past his hip on both sides. The back was more lace than not, and in the front, a triangular patch had been cut into the suit, starting below Keith’s breastbone and ending dangerously low on his hip bones. Shiro could see, through the lace at the stomach, a trail of black hair that started below Keith’s belly button and continued down into the suit. An intricate piece of metal and gems pierced Keith’s navel, winking at Shiro through the lace, though he couldn’t quite make out exactly what it was. Keith scowled at everyone in the kitchen through a face of stunning makeup, long lashes feathering against his cheeks as he blinked, small black and purple gemstones sparkling against his skin. Shiny black lips twisted in distaste. A simple silver circlet rested on his head, a single ruby dangling between his furrowed brows. More gems - rubies, diamonds, even gray pearls - sparkled at Shiro from the intricate collar piece draped around Keith’s neck and shoulders, and that would have been enough to drag Shiro’s attention away from the suit if it wasn’t for how damn tight it was…

Suddenly, the trope of the explosive anime nosebleed made a lot more sense to Shiro. He was pretty sure that he would be experiencing the same thing if the blood in his body hadn’t redirected itself to another part of his body.

And as he stared at Keith’s outfit, he realized one rather important thing: Keith was definitely not wearing any underwear. And as for the tightness of the suit, well...it certainly drew a lot of attention to one particular spot. Shiro was not trying to stare at the generously-sized bulge at Keith’s crotch, but... _ damn. _

Kuron wasn’t helping matters, either.

**Aisuru** **_looks good!_ ** **Aisuru** **_looks so good! Good enough to eat. A snack. No, a full-course meal. Get everyone out of the room. Bend him over the table. Fuck him within an inch of his life. Make him scream your name. Make him scream it!_ **

“What?” Keith snapped, when a full minute had passed and no one had said anything.

“ _ What, _ ” Allura began, the first one to find their voice, “in the name of all the gods are you  _ wearing?! _ ”

Keith lifted the shoes he carried down with him a little higher. “Look, these are amethyst geodes. I had a feeling that you didn’t want the floor all scratched up.”

“That is  _ not _ what I am talking about.”

“Look, I get that the makeup is a little more outlandish than usual-”

“She’s talking about your outfit, you crazy bitch!” Pidge blurted. “You could have warned us first!”

“Warned you about what? I’m fully dressed.”

“ _ You’re not wearing underwear! _ ”

Keith gave her a look. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Do you think I’m going to parade in front of my family and the entire Seelie Court with visible panty lines?”

“You could have at least tucked your dick!” Pidge yelled, gesturing sharply to the bulge between Keith’s legs. “This isn’t Labyrinth, and you aren’t David Bowie! Tuck your dick in, Jareth!”

“Look,” Keith began, “speaking from personal experience, tucking is not comfortable. Not to mention leather doesn’t breathe very well, and there is not enough talcum powder in the world to make tucking in this suit a good idea.” He gave a wicked smirk. “Besides, if I wanted to sit on a dick all night, I would just ask Shi - ”

“ _ Keith! _ ” Allura hollered.

“ _ Dude! _ ” Pidge yelped, jamming her fingers into her ears.

This time, Shiro did blush, but that did nothing to take away from how uncomfortably tight his pants now were. He casually crossed his legs, hoping to minimize the look of the tent in the front of his khakis, and wondered idly if there was a discreet way to pour a glass of ice water down his pants.

**_Forget eating his liver,_ ** Kuron growled.  **_I want to eat his ass._ **

_ Please stop. I am  _ begging  _ you. _

“I am not letting you out of the house like that,” Allura informed Keith.

“Allura, come on. This in conservative for an underaged Fae in the Seelie Court.”

“Oh God,” Pidge groaned.

“You...can’t be serious,” Hunk said.

“Oh, but I am,” Keith told him. “If I really wanted to shock anyone, I’d show up wearing body paint.  _ Just _ body paint.”

“Be as that may, I am still not letting you out of the house like that.” Allura snapped her fingers. A black sash appearing around Keith’s waist, tying itself into a knot at one hip, draping across him like a sarong, strategically covering his crotch. Keith gave it an experimental tug, but it didn’t move.

“What gives?”

“It will move as you move,” Allura explained, “and will come off when you take off the suit. But it’s charmed to provide a maximum amount of modesty and - put that leg down!”

Keith had, while she spoke, gotten his leg about three quarters of the way to vertical; at her command, he groaned but put his leg back down. Shiro wasn’t sure what impressed him more - the fact that he could, in fact, probably get his leg completely vertical, or that he could do it in a leather-and-lace catsuit.

Unfortunately, neither of those things were improving the situation in Shiro’s pants.

**Aisuru** **_is flexible,_ ** Kuron purred.  **_We should find out how flexible_ ** **aisuru** **_is._ **

_ No! _

To try to distract himself from his dirty thoughts, he cleared his throat a few times. “So, uh...uh...did, uh, did you do the makeup?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I did.” Keith turned to Lance, who had been casually - and confusedly - watching the drama that had played out in the kitchen. “Had some input from Lance. He’s...actually got some really good insight.”

“Thanks!” Lance beamed. “I’ve been picking up tips from some of the people in the makeup department at work, and also from that thing, the you-tub-ee…”

“Youtube,” Keith corrected.

“I just...really like watching makeup get done,” Lance said. “It’s like painting, but...on a face. And I had no idea there were so many colors and shades to everything…”

“Yeah, fun fact I learned while he was helping me - seals have monochromatic vision,” Keith said. “So colors have been a new thing for Lance.”

“I actually suggested the shimmer on Keith’s lips,” Lance said, gesturing to Keith’s lipstick, which Shiro could now see had a touch of purple shimmer to the bottom lip.

“Wait, so you were upstairs with him the entire time, and you didn’t think to suggest he tuck his dick in?!” Pidge hollered. “What the fuck, Lance?!”

“That tucks in?” Lance asked. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this sooner?”

“Oh Hecate help me…” Allura moaned.

“I’m gonna...I don’t know, go outside. Leave. Something,” Hunk said, sliding past Keith and Lance and disappearing down the front hall.

“I mean, it kinda tucks in?” Keith said. “It doesn’t have a specific place it goes, but you can tuck it between your legs.”

“If I tuck it in, do I have to wear those things? The shorts that go under the pants?” Lance asked, making a face. “I don’t like wearing those. It’s too many layers of pants.”

“Please tell me you wear underwear on the regular. Please, dear God, I am begging you,” Pidge said, eyes widening in horror.

“Not really. Why?”

“ _ Gross!! _ ” she howled. “Why are teenage boys so disgusting?!”

“Hey guys?” Hunk called down the hall. “Um...we’ve got something sitting in the driveway that looks like Cinderella’s carriage, and, um...whatever’s pulling it is trying to eat out of the rose bushes out front…”

“That sounds like our cue to leave.” Keith grabbed Shiro’s wrist and pulled him towards the door; he only just was able to grab the jam sampler from the table before he was dragged out front.

He hadn’t really been sure how they were going to get to the Seelie Court - or, honestly, where it even was - but he hadn’t been expecting Hunk to announce that a carriage had parked itself in their driveway. And, when he and Keith emerged on the front porch, he was even more surprised to see that Hunk was telling the truth - there was a carriage parked half on the driveway, half on the lawn, and it looked like it was pulled straight from a Disney movie. It was not pulled by a team of horses, but instead by a team of unicorns, all white except for the lead one, which was coal black and appeared to be made from living shadows.

“I’m...I’m seeing this correctly, right?” Hunk asked, leaning in towards Shiro. “That’s actually a carriage and a team of unicorns in the driveway, right?”

“It...It would appear so, yes,” Shiro said, nodding slowly. As he watched, at least two or three unicorns managed to pull a few roses off the bushes and were chomping happily.

“Hey, hey, enough of that!” Keith fussed, taking the front steps two at a time and shooing the nose unicorns out of the bushes. “I put a lot of work into those plants, they are not for eating!”

The unicorns chuffed and snorted, but moved away from the rose bushes. Satisfied, Keith turned his attention to the black unicorn at the lead of the team, stroking its head.

“Hey there, Storm. Hey. Hello. I missed you, boy.”

“Storm?” Shiro asked curiously, joining Keith on the lawn.

A giggling from nearby caught Shiro’s attention. Several young ladies clad in togas had appeared by the carriage, watching Keith and Shiro. One of them shot Shiro a mischievous grin.

“It’s short for Thunderstorm Darkness, according to His Highness here.”

“Oh my God,” Keith groaned. “I was  _ thirteen _ . Please stop reminding me what I named the unicorn.”

The ladies only giggled harder. Keith sighed, combing his fingers through Storm’s mane, wisps of shadows trailing over his fingers.

“I see Auntie Seph is getting involved in this?”

“She only wishes to help,” one young lady remarked.

“You know she loves you,” another added.

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith gave Storm a final pat, then headed for the carriage. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

One of the ladies opened the carriage door, ushering Shiro and Keith inside. The carriage was larger inside than it looked, with two velvet-lined benches facing each other, a curtained window between them. A small, elaborate chandelier hung from the roof of the carriage, and Shiro instinctively ducked his head so that he didn’t take out the delicate light fixture. To his surprise, however, he could not feel the roof of the carriage brushing the top of his head; glancing up, he saw that he would still have a good six inches before he hit the chandelier, even if he stood straight up.

“Wow,” he murmured, taking a seat on one of the benches.

“Yeah,” Keith said, sprawling on the bench across from him. “They’re pulling out all the stops.”

He reached up, knocking twice on the wall behind his head. The carriage lurched into motion; to Shiro’s surprise, however, once they horses had pulled out of the driveway and picked up speed, the ride was as smooth as any car, the gentle side-to-side swaying of the carriage the only indication that they weren’t in a car. Overhead, the chandelier swayed slightly, casting strange shadows on the walls. Shiro squinted up at it.

“Is that crystal?”

“Nope,” Keith said, popping the ‘p.’ “It’s diamond.”

Shiro blinked, nonplussed. “It’s what now?”

“Diamond.”

Shiro looked back up at the chandelier, then sank into his seat, feeling despair that had nothing to do with his impending meeting with the Seelie Court royalty creeping into his gut. “That...that chandelier probably cost more than my college tuition.”

“I’m sure it did,” Keith sighed, sounding terribly disinterested. “And this is just the beginning.”

Shiro closed his eyes to keep them from bugging out of his head. It had occurred to him that Keith’s biological family was probably wealthy, being royalty. But if a diamond chandelier that cost more than four years at Japan’s most prestigious university was just the beginning…

The gentle swaying of the carriage made Shiro start to feel drowsy. He kept his eyes closed, figuring a little nap before meeting Keith’s family wouldn’t do him any harm. The ride would be a short one, anyways, he was sure. He felt the carriage roll to a stop, then heard the familiar blaring of a ferry horn, and the rocking of the carriage was replaced by the rocking of the ferry over the water…

“We’re here. You’ll want to put this on.”

Shiro opened his eyes at the feeling of something in his lap, wondering if he had dozed off. He was sure he hadn’t, and yet, he must have; the light was completely different, darker now. He was still sitting up, and his neck didn’t feel stiff like it did when he fell asleep on the plane from Tokyo. He pushed back the curtains, finding that, instead of the ferry, which was the last thing he remembered, they were now in the middle of the woods, the carriage parked before the mouth of a cave.

“Where are we?”

“Generally? Olympic National Park. Specifically? One of the entrances to the Seelie Court.”

“Olympic National Park?” In his infinite amount of free time, Shiro had taken to studying the state in a variety of ways - maps, the internet, and a very strange book series involving real Washington state locations and characters he hoped to Inari were not real. “But...that’s two and a half hours away from your house. We weren’t in the carriage for that long...were we?”

“We were.” Keith stretched, his body one long, delicious line of black leather and lace. “Sorry, I should have warned you. There’s a...charm on the carriage. It’s a safety measure.”

“Safety? For what?”

“To protect the location of the Court. The charm puts people to sleep to prevent them from memorizing the route to the Court.”

“Why didn’t it work on you?”

“I’m half-fae and Crown Prince. It’s never worked on me.” Keith pressed his face into a mask, securing it with a ribbon. He looked up, and Shiro found himself staring at a purple-and-silver fox face. The mask covered Keith’s forehead, nose, and the tops of his cheeks; a pair of triangular fox ears pointed up out of his hair, and small jewels - which Shiro suspected may have been actual crystals, if they weren’t diamonds - studded the tops of the eye holes. “You’ll want to put your mask on.”

That was what Keith had tossed into his lap. He picked up the mask, finding himself staring at a rather traditional red-and-white, full-face Japanese fox mask. He looked up at Keith with a frown.

“Really?”

“We all have to be masked for court.” The door to the carriage opened, and Keith climbed out, all long legs and wicked grins. “Besides...we’ll be matching.”

Shiro sighed, pressing his face into the mask and securing it to the back of his head. He slid out of the carriage, only just remembering to grab his crate of jelly samples, and hurried over to Keith, who was now standing at the mouth of the cave. The air of the cave was cold, and smelled like moss and wet earth. Shiro drew level with Keith, looking into the mouth of the cave with no small amount of trepidation.

“We’re going in there?”

“Have to get there somehow.” Keith squared his shoulders and walked into the cave, heedless of the dark. Shiro followed after, clutching the crate as if he expected something to pop up out of the shadows and snatch it out of his hands.

The floor of the cave was flat for a while, but then, it began to slope downwards - a little at first, and then, a steeper decline. Keith navigated it like a pro, even in four-inch amethyst geode heels. Shiro stuck close behind, squinting; there was a dim sort of light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, one that kept them from being in complete blackness, but it was still dark in the cave, and the mask limited his field of vision.

The floor of the cave leveled off. Shiro stepped forward, and was greeted by the strangest sensation; it was as if he was walking through gel, or impossibly thick and sluggish air that pressed close to him, making it hard for him to breathe. He was squeezed tight until he thought he could bear it no longer, and then, all at once, the pressure let up. He damn near dropped the crate of jellies as he bent at his waist, sucking in a deep and grateful breath.

“Fuck,” Keith hissed up ahead.

“Hmm?” Shiro wheezed, looking up to find that somehow, Keith’s hair had gone from black to white. He turned to face Shiro, eyes glittering in annoyance behind his mask.

“I  _ just _ dyed this.”

“What happened? Why did it do that?”

“I hope you’re ready,” Keith said. “We’re close.”

He turned on his heel and continued down the tunnel. Shiro straightened up and followed after. Towards the mouth of the cave, the walls had been dry, but now, they were deep underground and the walls were damp and covered in springy moss. Gaps in the wall began to appear, as smaller tunnels started branching off of the main one. Shiro heard voices coming from these smaller tunnels, and could swear one or two of them were calling his name. He didn’t dare stray from the path, however, and chose to speed up a bit, getting as close as he could to Keith without climbing on his back.

They stopped in what appeared to be some kind of antechamber, in front of a curtain of thick, curling vines, guarded by a dusty stone statue of some rather grotesque creature that was gargoyle-like in appearance. Beyond the vines, there came the sounds of a party: Talking, music, and the sounds of glasses clinking against each other. Keith turned to face Shiro, his expression serious.

“Are you ready?”

Shiro nodded, though his gut was telling him to run.

“You’re sure? There’s no turning back beyond this doorway.”

“I’m as sure as I’ll ever be.”

Keith nodded, then turned around, nodding to the stone gargoyle next to the doorway. To Shiro’s surprise, it came to life, standing up and sweeping the curtain of vines aside so Keith and Shiro could step through.

The room beyond was like nothing Shiro had ever seen before. It was massive, the ceiling disappearing into blackness that was studded with tiny, star-like diamonds clustered into constellations. The floor was shining silver swirled with gold, and given his conversation with Keith in the carriage, he was pretty sure it was actual silver and gold. The floor was cracked in some places, places where sapling trees and full, fruit-laden bushes had grown through. One whole corner of the room was dedicated to a thunderous waterfall, though the sound was strangely muted, as if it had been done so purposefully, so as not to disturb the party. There was a pool of water at the base of the falls, and various fae had gathered there, lounging on cushions, drinking from sparkling goblets. Another corner was occupied by a group of fae playing various instruments, complete with beautiful, human-like fae women dancing in long, silken shirts and tiny cropped tops, bells on their ankles and wrists. Diamond chandeliers hung throughout the room, and the walls were decorated with inlaid precious gems, patterned to look like various flora and fauna.

But the most magnificent part of the room was directly across from the door, past the various milling, dancing, drinking fae in various states of dress and undress.

The dais took up more than half of one of the massive walls of the room, and was, in fact, made of solid gold, with a blood-red runner that led from the bottom of the two steps to the base of a massive throne of diamond, carved into the shape of a roaring dragon rampant. Two smaller thrones stood to either side of it, both made of swirled glass and precious gems. It was all Shiro could do to keep his jaw from rolling away.

**Aisuru** **_isn’t just a pretty face,_ ** Kuron mused.  **Aisuru’s** **_family has deep, deep pockets._ **

Every fae in the room was masked, too - just like Keith had said they would be. The masks varied in their complexity, but even what looked like the simplest of masks were made of nothing less than bronze, and studded with at least a dozen semi-precious stones.

As soon as Keith’s heels struck the floor, the entire room stopped - not just ground to a halt, but froze in place, as if someone had hit “pause” on a video. Shiro could feel every eye in the room on him - on his fox mask, on the crate of jellies, and on his woefully-out-of-place polo shirt and khaki pants. After the longest, most uncomfortable minute of Shiro’s life, a ripple of movement passed through the room; every single fae on the dance floor knelt, many scrambling out of the middle of the floor to provide Keith and Shiro a direct path to the dais. Six masked fae stood in front of the dais, and even they kneeled. The only fae who didn’t kneel were the two standing on the dais. The runner that ended at the floor began to creep out, strands of red shooting down the floor, weaving together in a complex, wordless dance until the runner stopped at Keith’s shoes. He set off down the newly-cleared aisle with all the grace and confidence of a model on a catwalk. Shiro trailed after him, trying to keep his hands from shaking, choosing to focus on the two fae on the dais.

The one he knew must be Kolivan; his was the biggest, most elaborate mask in the entire room, as large as one of the carriage’s wheels, a golden face surrounded by discs etched with figures and images Shiro couldn’t even begin to understand, finished by rays meant to emulate those of the sun and topped with a massive crown of gold and pearls. Despite his mask, however, his clothing was simple, austere, even - a black brocade doublet, worked with a pattern of leaves and vines, dark breeches, and simple black boots. He cut an imposing figure, however, and it wasn’t just because of the mask; his shoulders were broad, and he stood with the ramrod-straightness of a drill instructor.

The woman standing next to him was more mysterious. Her mask was smaller and less elaborate than Kolivan’s, but it was no less impressive, a masterwork of dark lace that covered half her face, studded with square-cut sapphires and strung with several chains of seed pearls that draped like a necklace from the bottom of her mask. An explosion of blue feathers accented her dark hair. She was dressed more like the rest of the folk of the court, wearing a long, sleeveless dress with a sheer blue skirt, slit all the way to the top of her leg to bare a vast swath of strangely purple skin. 

They stopped at the base of the golden platform, where Keith kneeled. Shiro dropped to his knees as well, bowing his head out of respect, but glancing up frequently to make sure he could follow Keith’s lead.

“Your Majesty,” Keith said, addressing Kolivan first, then turning to the woman with him. “Your Grace.”

“Crown Prince Akira,” Kolivan replied, voice deep and not unfriendly. “It is good to see you again. Your acceptance of Our invitation brings Us great joy.”

Shiro glanced over at Keith -  _ Akira _ , was  _ that  _ his real name? - but Keith wasn’t paying attention to him. His attention was on the woman with Kolivan; as Shiro watched, she glanced over to Kolivan. It was hard to tell with the giant mask on, but he swore the Seelie King shook his head very slightly. A raven, which had been perched on the back of one of the two thrones, took flight, coming to land on the woman’s shoulder, which only made her look even more intimidating.

“We thank you for your generous invitation,” Keith said, gesturing to Shiro. “May I present to the court my betrothed, Takashi Shirogane, servant of Inari.”

Whispers broke out among the assembled fae, but Kolivan stilled them with a raised hand. He then gestured to Shiro.

“Rise, Takashi Shirogane, servant of Inari.”

Shiro got to his feet, but then froze, uncertain of what to do next. The last thing he wanted to do was to make an ass of himself in front of the entire court.

From his position, still kneeling on the floor, Keith cleared his throat. Shiro glanced down; Keith eyed the crate of jellies in Shiro’s hand, then inclined his head towards Kolivan.

“Oh.” Shiro turned back to Kolivan, holding out the crate of jellies in offering. “Y-Your Majesty, I thank you for the invitation, and, um...I...I present you with an offering of...jelly?”

**_Real smooth,_ ** Kuron said.

“Jellies, huh?” One of the fae that had been standing guard at the dais got to her feet, approaching Shiro. Like all of the guards, her mask only covered half her face, and yellow eyes took Shiro in from head to toe through the slits in her obsidian mask. She smiled, all needle-sharp teeth. “Let’s see if they’re any good.”

She plucked a jar from the crate and opened it, tossing the lid into the crowd of fae gathered nearest to her. There was a brief scuffle as they fought for the shiny trinket, and then, a short cry of victory as one fae won out. Shiro expected her to sample the jam using her claw-like fingernails, but to his surprise - and disgust - she opted to plunge her long, spade-like tongue into the jar instead, cleaning out half of the apricot jelly in one go.

Several of the guards around the dais groaned in unison. “Ilun…”

She ignored them, instead scooping the jelly into her mouth and swallowing. Shiro watched, torn between fascination and revulsion, as she went after the jar like she hadn’t eaten in a month, fastidiously cleaning every speck of jelly from the glass surface before she placed the emptied jar back into the crate.

“Well, I like him,” she declared.

“Good thing no one else was planning on eating that,” one of the guards commented.

“Get fucked, Vrek.”

“Enough,” Kolivan declared, and both of them fell silent. Ilun returned to her original spot, though not without a wink to Shiro as she did so. Once she was back in her spot, Kolivan returned his attention to Keith and Shiro. “We apologize for the lapse in decorum, and wish to express our gratitude to you, Takashi Shirogane, for your thoughtful and generous gift.”

Shiro nodded, setting the crate down on the ground in front of him, folding his hands together and bowing to Kolivan. To his surprise, the Seelie King returned the gesture - not as deeply, but his actions still spoke volumes.

“The Seelie Court welcomes Crown Prince Akira and his betrothed, Takashi Shirogane,” Kolivan announced. “And we wish to commemorate the occasion with a ball for the court to enjoy!”

He clapped his hands twice, and the musicians struck up a lively tune. All the masked fae effortlessly fell into step, dancing along in a lively fashion, jewels sparkling in the light of the chandeliers. Shiro swallowed nervously - no one had said anything about dancing - but Kolivan and the unnamed duchess stepped down from the dais, sweeping past Keith and Shiro, seemingly disappearing through a stretch of stone wall. The guards around the throne followed suit, the tallest and buffest of them stooping to grab the crate of jellies. Shiro turned to Keith, confused.

“We’re not staying for the ball?”

“The ball is for the court, not the royal family.”

“So...now what?”

Keith sighed, the sigh of a man about to be led off to his doom. “It’s time for tea.”

* * *

In his week of dwelling on the upcoming tea party and what it might incur, Shiro had imagined a small, almost intimate setting, with only the close family there, sitting at cozy circular tables with tea and a few plates of baked goods.

What he got, however, was something else entirely. The room they were led to was a massive dining hall, with the same high, vaulted ceiling and diamond chandeliers as the throne room-slash-ballroom. A table large enough for a dozen people with plenty of elbow room was the centerpiece, draped with a silk tablecloth in pure white. The fae filed in, but didn’t sit. The doors closed, and a dozen or so furry servants, about half Shiro’s height, swarmed in. Four of them immediately swarmed Kolivan.

“Yes, yes. Be delicate with it.” He lifted the enormous mask from his face, passing it to the fuzzy, chittering servants. Much to Shiro’s surprise, Kolivan’s skin was a pale lilac in color, eyes a flat, pupil-less yellow. A thin white braid was coiled around his neck, which he swept off of his neck with a sigh.

“Better,” he sighed. “Now, let me look upon my grandson.”

Keith unmasked himself, passing his mask to the Ewok-like creature waiting next to him. Kolivan approached, clasping Keith by the shoulders, studying him critically. After a moment, one corner of his lips twitched up in the very barest hint of a smile.

“It is good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Grandfather.”

The unnamed duchess stepped up to Kolivan’s side, now unmasked. Shiro found himself struck by just how much she looked like Keith; though her skin was purple, she had Keith’s sharp, ethereal features and piercing violet eyes. Even her hair was a longer version of Keith’s, a deep purple shot through with magenta at the nape of her neck. She looked to Kolivan, a desperate need for approval written on her face. He nodded firmly, and she reached out, cupping Keith’s cheek with a hand, face softening.

“Keith…” she murmured.

Keith’s smile was indescribably sad. “Hey, Mom.”

**_Well,_** Kuron remarked, **_that explains a lot._** **Aisuru** ** _gets his looks from his mom._**

The rest of the fae in the room had finished unmasking, and Shiro took that as a sign that he would be okay to unmask as well. All the other fae were purple-skinned, somewhere between Kolivan’s lilac tone and Krolia’s plum. Shiro couldn’t help but wonder how Keith had escaped being born with purple skin.

The doors at the far end of the room burst open, and the strangest creature Shiro had ever seen came scrambling in. He was some odd combination of a weasel and a centipede, standing at least six feet tall, walking upright on two legs but waving four arms in distress, screaming from a beak-like mouth. As he rushed in, Shiro could see that his blue fur was damp and matted - with what, Shiro wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know.

“I knew it! There was a 67.0935% chance that this was one of the bad realities, and I was  _ right! _ ” he crowed, launching himself at Kolivan and wrapping around the king’s legs.

Kolivan sighed. “What is it, Slav?”

Slav jammed an accusing finger in Krolia’s direction. “One of Krolia’s beasts tried to eat me! I told you this was a bad reality, and you didn’t listen! Now, my chances of dying from being turned into a chew toy have gone up 67.521%!”

Krolia raised an eyebrow at him, looking even more terrifyingly like Keith. “What were you doing in my chambers?”

“He was looking for me.”

A beautiful, dark-skinned woman swept into the room, dressed in a gleaming chiton of white silk, a crown with flowers of pure gold shining against her dark, curly hair. She gave a soft chuckle as she sidled up to Krolia; Shiro noticed the duchess slinking an arm around the woman’s waist.

“He made the mistake of waking Honey,” the woman said.

“So you thought it was a good idea to wake the pregnant hellhound from her nap?” Krolia smirked. “You’re lucky she didn’t take half of you down in one bite.”

Slav opened his mouth - beak? - to argue, but Keith stepped between them, holding something in his hands like a peace offering.

“Hey Slav. Brought you a present.”

“Keith?” Slav uncurled himself from Kolivan’s legs, trotting over. “Oh, it’s good to see you again, my boy! What have you brought?”

“A bag of coffee from the original Starbucks, at Seattle’s Pike Place market.” Keith presented the bag to Slav. “Extra dark roast, just the way you like it.”

Slav snatched the bag, peeling it open and sticking his entire beak into the bag to sniff. He then reached into the bag, scooping out a handful of coffee beans and shoving them directly into his beak, crunching loudly. Shiro leaned closer to Keith, brows furrowed.

“Is he... _ eating _ the coffee beans?”

Keith shrugged. “He likes the crunch.”

“Ohhhh this tastes like 1971,” Slav said through a mouthful of coffee beans. “That was a good year. My Prince, you are generous beyond words.”

“It’s no problem,” Keith said. “Any changes?”

“None yet,” Slav said, shaking his head. “But there is a 93.15% chance that I’m 7.896% closer to a cure!”

“Slav,” Kolivan said, “will you be joining us for tea?”

“Can I have coffee instead?” he asked, clutching at his new bag of coffee beans.

Kolivan sighed. “Yes, you can have coffee.”

“Excellent!” He scurried for the chair at the end of the long table.

Keith quickly introduced Shiro to the other fae - Antok, the chief guard and his first cousin once removed; Regris, Antok’s son; Ilun and Vrek - “of course, you’ve already met Ilun,” Keith had said - a pair of guards and distant kin to Keith and Kolivan; Ulaz, the Seelie Court’s chief physician, and Thace, who was not blood-related to the family, but had grown up with Krolia and was an unofficial member of the royal family. The last person Keith turned to was Krolia, who was speaking in hushed voices with the dark-haired woman.

“Shiro,” Keith said, “this is my mother, Krolia, Grand Duchess of the Seelie Court.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Shiro,” Krolia said, breaking off her conversation and offering Shiro a hand. He hesitated; her hand was bigger and longer than his, with sharp nails, and even so, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to shake it or kiss it. He took her hand, settling for bowing his head until his forehead touched the top of Krolia’s hand.

“It’s an honor, Grand Duchess.”

“And I’m Persephone,” the other woman remarked with a dazzling smile. “Also known as Auntie Seph. You can just call me Seph.”

“Aunt Seph is another old friend of my mother’s,” Keith explained.

“I’ve known him since he was just a tiny baby,” Persephone cooed with a fond smile. “He was the cutest little baby.”

“Aunt Seph…” Keith groaned.

There was a faint tinkling sound, like the ringing of a small bell. Kolivan smiled faintly.

“Ah, the tea is ready.”

Everyone headed for the table. Golden plates appeared in front of the chairs as people took their seats; Shiro ended up between Antok and Keith. He leaned forward slightly, peering down the table at Persephone, who was chatting with Kolivan, who was seated, appropriately enough, at the head of the table.

“So...how do you know Persephone again?”

“She’s my mom’s best friend,” Keith said. Persephone winked at Krolia, who not-so-subtly blew a kiss back to her. Keith made a face. “Possibly more than that, which I really don’t want to think about.”

“I got that, but...should I know her?”

“I mean, she’s not in your particular pantheon, so I get it. You’ve probably heard of her husband, though - Hades? Name ring a bell?”

Shiro nearly choked on his tongue. “ _ Hades? _ She’s  _ that _ Persephone?!”

“Yup.”

“But...but I thought those were just...just myths…”

“So is the Seelie Court, but here we are,” Keith said. “ _There’s more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy._ _Hamlet_. Act one, scene five.”

“We appear to be missing two guests,” Krolia said, gesturing to the two empty seats across from Shiro and Keith. “Who are we waiting on?”

“Two latecomers,” Kolivan said simply. “They’ll be here. In the meantime, however, let us eat, drink, and be merry!”

At Kolivan’s words, the table filled with plates of desserts and pastries, as well as various decanters and carafes of drinks - wine, tea, coffee, and a selection of juices. Shiro’s jars of jelly popped up along the table, opened, with delicate silver teaspoons in them for serving. The pomegranate jelly popped up in front of Persephone, who smirked, then pointed at it. She and Krolia both began to laugh as if they’d just been told the world’s funniest joke.

Kuron, meanwhile, had ideas of his own about the spread. 

**_Eat it. Eat it all. Everything. We have to try one of everything. Look at it all. Smell it. Why aren’t you taking any food? What is wrong with you? Eat?!!_ **

The spread did look absolutely amazing, but Shiro didn’t dare reach for it. He’d read many books about the fae, but they’d all had one thing in common, had all given him one major warning: To eat or drink anything in the Seelie Court was to be trapped there for eternity. He glanced over at Keith’s plate, and found that it was just as empty.

“Oh!” Krolia gasped, spotting their empty plates. “Don’t worry, boys. Everything here was made in the human world and brought over. You can eat without worries.”

Keith nodded, pulling the nearest platter towards them. Shiro breathed a sigh of relief, plucking an icing-covered cinnamon roll off the platter and putting it on his plate.

“Yeah, but we have to deal with the gritty human-world aftertaste,” Regris grumbled from down the table. Antok scowled, and Regris yelped a moment later, as if his father had kicked him under the table.

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it,” Keith teased, reaching for a plate of brigadeiro. “More for me and Shiro.”

A wave of laughter washed over the table, but it was suddenly and harshly cut off by the doors to the room slamming open.

Two people - or fae, rather, one male and one female - stood in the doorway. The male was almost as austerely dressed as Kolivan, though the black tunic he wore was sleeveless, and the pants were obscenely tight. His face was concealed behind an elaborate mask that featured an entire peacock over the right half of the face, worked in sapphires and emeralds. A pair of silver torques circled his biceps, with matching bracelets at his wrists. Like the other fae, his skin was pale purple in color, his hair long and white and looking like it belonged in a shampoo commercial.

His female companion was dressed much more like she belonged in the fae court, her outfit somehow managing to show more skin than Keith’s. A midnight-blue in color, it was barely more than a bikini top, a flowing loincloth, and an elaborate cape, all joined with see-through, mesh-like fabric. Her face was framed by short, deep purple hair, accentuated by her sapphire-and-emerald encrusted mask, with an explosion of peacock feathers at her left temple. Short, ridged horns jutted up out of her hair, and, unlike the rest of the court, her skin was a pale shade of blue.

Both fae removed their masks, passing them to the small, fuzzy creatures that waited by the door. For the second time that night, Shiro found himself staring into what he swore was the face of a female Keith; she had the same sharp jaw and high cheekbones, the same almost-almond-shaped-eyes. The fuzzy creatures took the masks and scurried off, but still, no one spoke. To Shiro’s right, Keith had his teeth bared, fangs surprisingly sharp, and he actually growled low in his throat.

“Your Highness,” Kolivan greeted, ignoring his grandson’s growling. “You’re late.”

“My humblest apologies, Your Majesty,” the man replied, bowing deeply at the waist.

“No matter.” Kolivan stood, clearing his throat. “I, Kolivan, King of the Seelie Court, welcome His Royal Highness, Lotor Daibazzal, Crown Prince of the Unseelie Court, and his partner, Lady Acxa of the Unseelie Court, formerly Princess Akemi of the Seelie Court.”

_ Former princess? _ Shiro cast a glance to Keith, but Keith did not notice him. He’d stopped growling, but the scowl had not gone away.

Lotor smiled, inclining his head to Kolivan. “We are most pleased to be welcomed by Your Majesty.”

“You can’t sit with us!” Ilun called loudly.

“Ilun, enough!” Kolivan scolded.

“She doesn’t even go here!” Vrek chimed in.

“Vrek!” Kolivan hissed.

“This is what we get for installing cable,” Antok sighed.

Keith got to his feet. Shiro could practically hear him grinding his teeth as he bit out his next words. “I, Akira, Crown Prince of the Seelie Court, second His Majesty’s greetings, and welcome Crown Prince Lotor and Lady Acxa to the Seelie Court.”

Lotor nodded respectfully to Keith. “I thank you, Your Highness. I do hope that our presence here does not disturb the festivities. After all, keeping the peace between the Courts is in the best interests of all, and I only have those best interests at heart.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Virgin fuckin’ Mary,” Keith muttered as he sat back down. Persephone jabbed an elbow into his side, but he paid it little mind.

Lotor and Acxa approached the empty seats across from Shiro and Keith. Lotor pulled out a chair for Acxa, giving Keith an untrustworthy kind of smile.

“Keith – or is it Akira? I can never remember.”

“Keith, to you.”

“Keith. We meet again. This is quite a different world from your little tarot-reading stall.”

Krolia made a face, but forced her attention to Lotor and Acxa, smiling weakly. “Acxa. So nice of you and your…betrothed to visit. It truly is a family reunion now.”

Acxa didn’t reply. Krolia, still smiling weakly, instead grabbed a decanter of wine from the table. “Would anyone care for something to drink?”

Kolivan took the decanter, filling Krolia’s goblet halfway. She scowled, snatched the decanter back, and filled her goblet the rest of the way. Lotor spooned something onto his plate, then glanced over, looking first at Shiro’s plate, then at Shiro, who had returned to eating his cinnamon roll in the hopes of feeling less awkward.

“You might want to eat quickly, before the fireworks begin,” he cautioned.

“Huh?”

**_Dinner and a show? This should be fun,_ ** Kuron chuckled.

“Mmm, Mom’s homemade chou à la crème. I’ve missed this.” Acxa swallowed her mouthful of the fluffy pastry with a moan, before turning her attention to Keith, fond smile going sharp and wicked. “So, baby brother, any plans for our birthday? This is nineteen for humans, right? I can never remember.”

Shiro pressed his lips together.  _ So they are related. _

**_About time you caught on,_** Kuron huffed.

“First of all, I’m not your baby brother, we’re  _ twins. _ ” Keith stabbed a piece of croquembouche, refusing to meet his sister’s gaze. “Second of all, what I’m doing with my birthday is none of your damn business.”

“ _ Our _ birthday.”

“It hasn’t been our birthday since you were banned from the Wild Hunt three years ago for that little stunt you pulled with the manticore.”

“And it’s such an important birthday for you, too,” Acxa said, ignoring him. “After all, there’s only two more years to Choose before Gramps has the right to force it on you.”

A few of the fae at the table tensed up, or else looked around as if searching for an exit. Acxa merely chuckled.

“Don’t you just love human aging rates? They make it so easy to pass on titles and such.”

“That’s enough, Acxa,” Krolia snapped, voice sharp. Both Shiro and Lotor flinched at her tone, but Acxa didn’t even blink.

Kolivan sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I had hoped that we could have a peaceful family meal…”

“What do you want?” Keith snapped at his sister.

Acxa smiled, but it was far from friendly or comforting. “I just want to be part of the family again. It’s been far too long since we’ve all been under the same roof.”

“You Chose to side with the Unseelie,” Kolivan said, not taking his eyes off his plate, a death grip on his utensils. “You’re no longer part of this family.”

“There’s nothing we can do for you now. You…you sided with them.” Krolia sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t sound so sad, Mom, there’s no hard feelings. But I should warn you, Keithy-cat and I are the same.” Acxa turned back to her brother, tilting her head and observing him. “I wonder…if he sides with the Unseelie, will you shut him out like you shut me out?”

“I am  _ nothing _ like you,” Keith growled.

“You think so?” Acxa gestured to Shiro, who froze, mouth full of food. “You nabbed yourself a celestial being for a mate. You know it’s not proper to ensnare the divine, Keithy.”

“ _ Leave him out of this, _ ” Keith snarled.

**_Look at Aisuru, coming to our defense,_ ** Kuron purred.  **_He really does care about us. Also, he’s beautiful when he’s angry._ **

“I guess leaving a trail of heartbroken humans just wasn’t enough for you, you needed something more.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Regris snorted.

“What do you mean by that, Marquess?” Lotor asked – though whether in an attempt to quell the impending drama or stir it up, Shiro couldn’t tell.

“How many fae have you strung along and then thrown out like garbage?” Regris asked. “You were a little heartbreaker in the Seelie Court, and now you’ve managed to worm your way into the bed of the Crown Prince of the Unseelie Court!”

“Regris!” Antok hissed.

“What, does that make me some kind of slut or something?” Acxa challenged.

“Oh no. No no no. You’re not  _ a _ slut.” Regris paused. “You are  _ the _ slut.”

“Regris!” Kolivan, Krolia, and Antok all gasped.

“You’re the Grand Poohbah of Slutdom! You are the easiest person in this room!”

Krolia leapt from her seat, slamming her hands onto the table. “Regris, you take that back!”

“The slut is dead,” Regris said, motioning from Keith to Acxa. “Long live the slut.”

“Regris, enough,” Kolivan growled. “We don’t need you quoting  _ Golden Girls. _ ”

“Again,” Ulaz added.

“He’s got a point, though,” Keith said coldly, eyeing Acxa and Lotor. “Tell me, big sis, how long have you been fucking the prince of the Unseelie Court? Because last I heard, he was engaged to a duchess over there. I mean, I get that you’re a greedy, power-hungry little bitch, but a homewrecker? I thought that, at least, was beneath you.”

**_Oooh! Aisuru knows how to deliver a comeback!_ ** Kuron said.  **_Maybe you should ask him for pointers. Your comebacks are boring._ **

“You think you’re just the picture of innocence because you’re prince of the Seelie Court, don’t you?” Acxa turned to Kolivan and Krolia. “You think you can keep Keith so good? Wasn’t I the same before I Chose?”

“No, you weren’t.”

Antok got to his feet, taking advantage of the silence that had fallen, looking first to the disgraced princess, then to Kolivan and Krolia.

“Krolia, my dearest cousin, I love you, but this is me cashing in on a very desperately owed ‘I told you so.’” He turned back to Acxa. “You’ve behaved like a spoiled brat since the moment you realized you were royalty. Your magic manifested so young. Had you taken the time to properly hone it, you could have been a prodigy. But instead, you jumped on the first chance of power and glory that presented itself to you. The only one responsible for the situation you’re in is you.”

“Maybe I didn’t feel loved enough,” Acxa said with a pout. “Keefers here got to stay with our dad. He was treated like a little boy. Allowed to have fun. Loved. I came here and it was all studying, working, training. Day in and day out. I was seven, and I was only ever told that I wasn’t trying hard enough. That I needed to focus better. To work harder.”

“I did the best I could,” Krolia ground out. “Your magic manifested at least five years too early. If I had let you slip, even for one second – ”

“Tried your best, huh? Well, sorry, Mommy, but your best wasn’t good enough.”

Krolia sank back into her chair, taking her nearly-full goblet of wine and chugging it.

“Oh, how mature of you,” Keith spat, clapping his hands slowly. “Blame our mother for your life choices.”

Acxa ignored her twin, focusing her vitriolic gaze on on her grandfather instead. “But you know what, Gramps? It doesn’t matter. Even if Keith doesn’t Choose, it doesn’t change the fact that Zarkon will come for him.”

The entire room went silent. Every fae in the room looked back and forth between Acxa and Lotor, the latter of whom pointedly refused to meet anyone’s gaze, instead focusing intently on his plate and on shoveling food into his mouth. Shiro felt his imaginary hackles rise; his hands curled into paws on the arms of his chair.

**_What did the bitch say?_ ** Kuron growled. 

“What?” Kolivan asked, voice low. Dangerous.

“You heard me,” Acxa said. “Zarkon will come for Keith. It’s practically written in the stars, it’s so fucking obvious.”

“That’s enough,” Thace growled, sharp nails pricking a hole through the tablecloth.

“We’re warning you,” Antok added, hand going to his hip, where the hilt of a sword could be seen.

“Acxa, dear…” Lotor began.

Acxa ignored him. “You know it’s true. Every day he’s in the mortal world, sweet little Keefers is one step closer to siding with us. You can hide him away here, but it won’t help. Zarkon and Honerva will raze this court to the ground if that’s what it takes to get their hands on Keith.”

**_I’ll put my teeth in their throats if they put their hands on_ ** **Aisuru!** Kuron growled. Shiro grit his teeth, just barely keeping Kuron at bay, because he knew if he were to let up his grip on Kuron, he’d lunge across the table and actually attempt to tear Acxa’s throat out.

“Pay no attention to her lies, Keith,” Ulaz spat, before heaping another spoonful of banana pudding onto Keith’s plate. “Please, eat, you’re far too thin.”

Keith was angrier than Shiro had ever seen him before. He was staring daggers at his twin sister, a yellow halo around his irises, bleeding into his sclera. The hand holding his fork was trembling with barely-contained rage. Slowly, not wanting to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, Shiro reached for a plate of flan, which was slightly beyond his reach.

Acxa’s eyes fell on him. He froze, wondering if that was what a deer trapped in headlights felt right before it got hit by a car. Even Kuron seemed cowed by Acxa’s gaze, her shark-like smile.

“Oh, well where are my manners? Let me help you with that, sweetie!”

“I-I’m fine…”

**_Don’t let her touch you,_ ** Kuron warned.  **_Don’t eat anything she puts on your plate. She’ll kill us both._ **

“Nonsense! In fact, let me serve you, since my brother’s too busy stuffing his face.”

“N-No, I…I uh…”

**_Let me out. Let me meet her. Let me rip her. Let me tear her. Let me eat her liver._ **

“Big strong man like you needs to eat! Of course, everyone here’s been too busy to even pass you the food! Some hospitality, huh? Perhaps you should side with someone who’ll know how to treat you right…”

She winked at Shiro. Keith jumped to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table. A shockwave zipped down the table, upsetting goblets and making the plate of flan wobble violently.

“ _ Get away from him! _ ”

Acxa smirked. “Problem, bro?”

“You’re goddamn right there’s a problem!” Keith’s entire body was shaking in anger, wisps of smoke curling off of his knuckles.

“You bring your celestial boy-toy all the way down here, and then ignore him all evening. That’s hardly fair to him.” Acxa turned back to Shiro. “You should come with us, sweetie. I’d treat you much better than – ”

Keith lunged with a snarl; Acxa only had a split-second to jerk her hand away, before Keith stabbed his fork into the table where her hand had been. He snarled at her like a wild animal, sclera completely yellow.

“ _ Don’t you fucking touch my husband! _ ”

“So that’s how you want to play, baby brother? Fine.”

Acxa thrust a crackling ball of lightning at Keith. He jumped aside to dodge it…and kept going, feet floating a few inches off the ground. Acxa jerked to her right, the two of them beginning to rotate clockwise around the table. Lotor scrubbed a hand over his face, looking pained.

“Oh no…”

The table shook, hard enough to knock over several goblets, staining the previously-clean silk tablecloth. As Shiro watched, the table lifted off the ground, followed one gut-wrenching second later by the chairs. They only rose up off the floor by a few inches, still close enough to the ground for Shiro’s feet to skim along the floor…at least, until the table and chairs started to spin counter-clockwise, Keith and Acxa still flying the opposite direction around the outside of the table.

“Spineless pussy!” Acxa howled, magicking the bowl of banana pudding off the table and lobbing it at Keith. “Hiding in the human world because you’re so afraid of the power you can wield!”

Keith deflected the bowl of pudding with a shield of violet energy, and the pudding bowl shattered against a wall. “I’m not afraid of my powers! But I would rather live as a human than turn into a power-hungry bitch like you!”

“Keith! Stop this!” Shiro pleaded. He looked over to Lotor, hoping the Unseelie prince would chime in to try to stop the fight, but he merely grabbed for his goblet as it nearly flew off the table, draining it in one huge gulp.

**_Don’t stop!_ ** Kuron encouraged, even though no one besides Shiro would be able to hear him.  **_Show her what you’re made of,_ ** **Aisuru!** **_Put the bitch back in her place!_ **

“You need all the power you can get, since I hear tell you’re wasting it all on cheap parlor tricks!”

Keith snarled, sending all the forks on the table flying at his sister with a violent gesture of his hand. From his chair, Slav screamed in terror, wrapping his body around the back of his chair in an attempt to keep from flying out of it.

“There’s a 62.3745% possibility that this is one of the 1.3623% of realities where Keith finally does us all in!”

“Keith, Acxa, there’s no need for this!” Krolia hollered, clinging to her chair. “Please! Stop! At the very least, for the love of your father – !”

“Don’t you dare bring Dad into this!” Acxa screamed, jabbing an accusing finger at her mother. Lightning flew from her fingertip; Krolia just barely shielded herself in time, and Acxa’s lightning instead disintegrated a set of drapes nearby, revealing the large, opaque-glass window they were hiding.

“Acxa, stop!” Kolivan ordered.

“It was your fault!” she hollered, ire still directed at her mother. “It was all your fault! You just had to go and stick your nose into business it didn’t belong in, like a – !”

“Don’t you talk to Mom like that!” Keith shouted. A nearby teapot rose off the table and burst into flames. He lobbed it at Acxa, who backhanded it into a nearby column.

“Not the good china!” Ilun screeched from her chair, just barely audible over the noise and ignored by everyone else.

“I’ll speak to Mom however the fuck I want!”

“The fuck you will, after all the bullshit you’ve put us through!”

The fight was getting more and more perilous. The floor was already littered with broken glass from things that had been thrown, as well as splotches and globs of food. Acxa’s lightning bolts had left scorch marks on the walls, and more than a few things were smoldering from Keith’s stray fireballs. The table seemed to be spinning faster and faster the more the argument picked up.

“Wah wah wah, always about you, Keith, just because you were Mommy and Daddy’s favorite!”

“That’s not true!” Krolia yelled, trying vainly to get up from her chair.

“And Grandpa! All you ever saw in Keith was the next little dumbass puppet to sit on the throne! But have you ever thought about what he’s been doing running around unchecked in the human world? Scaring the locals and messing with the minds of the poor mortals? He’s more Unseelie than I was!”

“What do you care about mortals?” Keith flung a volley of dessert knives at his twin. “You only care about power, glory, and yourself!”

Acxa countered the knives with a massive bolt of lightning. “Well if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!”

“Akira! Akemi! That is  _ enough! _ ” Kolivan boomed, only to be ignored by both of his grandchildren.

“I want you out of here!” Keith screamed, lobbing a ball of fae-charged fire at Acxa. She didn’t dodge it in time, and it caught her cape-sleeves, singing off a large chunk. She let out a wordless shriek of rage.

“I am so sick of everyone treating you like you’re something special! There is nothing special about you! All you are is a tiny, spineless, powerless version of me! You’re nothing! You’re – !”

“I said  _ get the FUCK OUT! _ ” Keith his Acxa with a blast of energy square in the chest, knocking her out of their rotation around the table, straight through the windows whose curtains she’d blown off. She disappeared from view in a scream and a shower of broken glass.

The table slowed down its rotation, finally grinding to a stop and floating back down to its original position. Keith slowed down, too, coming to a stop at his chair next to Shiro. Shiro leaned forward, elbows on knees, ready to vomit from a combination of the food and the spinning.

**Aisuru** **_has a temper,_ ** Kuron gasped, sounding as dazed as Shiro felt.  **_Remind us not to get on his bad side._ **

There was a thud from outside, and then, Acxa screeched Lotor’s name. The prince – who seemed only slightly frazzled by the fight – winced, getting to his feet and offering an apologetic expression to Kolivan.

“I am dreadfully sorry about the mess,” he said. “Send me a bill for the damages and I will see that they’re fixed, courtesy of the Unseelie Court. Cat Sidhe knows where to find me.”

“ _ LOTOR! _ ” Acxa shrieked.

He winced. “I should be going.”

With a snap of his fingers, Lotor disappeared. While Kolivan surveyed the destroyed dining room, Keith sank back down into his chair, spent. Shiro turned to Keith, smiling weakly.

“Husband, huh?”

Keith’s cheeks turned furiously red. “Heh…guess I did call you that…”

“There is already an 89.7 % chance of you actually marrying Shiro in this reality,” Slav gasped from the end of the table, “so the fact that you called him husband does not surprise me.”

Keith went even more red. “O-Oh…”

Shiro slumped forward again, feeling even more dizzy and nauseated than he had a moment ago. With a sudden, violent heave that felt as if he were bringing up half his organs with it, he vomited a disgusting mixture of half-digested pastries all over the floor in front of him. Around the table, Keith’s family groaned and yelped. Shiro shoved his chair back, getting to his feet with the intention of finding a bathroom or a bucket before he was sick again, but as soon as he got to his feet, he lurched forward, knees unsteady and unable to take his weight. He staggered forward, clipping his temple on Keith’s chair, which sent him to his knees.

He blacked out before he fully hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~If anyone wants to draw Keith in his Seelie Court getup you'll be my hero for forever...~~
> 
> In case you're wondering, [this is the bit from _Golden Girls_ that Regris was quoting](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tq2HVi0w2w)
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/celticaurora)


	15. Calm After the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the hours after the disastrous family tea, Shiro gets some insight into Keith's personal history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....here we are six months later, and I don't even have Starbucks.
> 
> Anyways, I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I ended up with a full-time, long-term substitute position teaching math (not my thing) but...you know what, we made it through it.
> 
> So hopefully, the fact that this chapter is almost 10,000 words long is enough to make up for the wait! Thank you so much for your patience and support!

“Well, that could have gone better…”

Shiro blinked awake to a vast rock ceiling over him and a slight chill in the air. He jerked up, panicking, not sure of where he was, only for pain to lance through his head, sending him back down onto the mattress, groaning and clutching his head, eyes scrunched shut, feeling his ears crumple under his fingers.

His ears were...fuzzy? And able to be crumpled? That didn't make any sense.

Unless…

“Easy, easy.” Large hands cradled his head and shoulders, easing him back down, placing what felt like a large marshmallow under his head. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

“Shiro?”

The bed dipped slightly. Shiro blinked his eyes open and found Keith leaning over him, along with Ulaz, the physician that Shiro remembered meeting earlier. 

“Keith? I…”

“You’re okay. You’re safe. We’re in my room.” Keith gestured to the physician. “You met Ulaz at tea, right?”

“My head…”

“I’d say you have a concussion, but...well, you don’t anymore,” Ulaz remarked. “Either your skull is exceptionally hard, or you have your powers to thank for a quick healing.”

“My...powers..?” His ears. Shiro brought his hands in front of his face and squinted at them, finding that they now ended in claws and not nails. “Did I...go full fox?”

“I...suppose so,” Ulaz said.

“As soon as you blacked out…” Keith mimicked an explosion with his hands. “Boom. Tails everywhere. Sorry about the whole you puking and blacking out thing. My, uh...my sister kinda brings out the worst in me.”

Ulaz reached to the side table, pouring a turquoise-colored, syrupy liquid into a small glass and offering it to Shiro. “Here, you’ll want to drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”

“Ulaz, he can’t. He’s mortal.”

Ulaz sighed. “Damn, I always forget about that. I’m not so skilled when it comes to human medicine…”

“Just see if there’s any ibuprofen laying around or something,” Keith said. “I know Grandfather keeps a human first-aid kit around for when I come to visit.”

“Good thinking, Your Highness.”

Keith made a face. “Can you please not call me that?”

“It’s habit, Your H - Akira. Keith. I’m just going to...go look for that kit.” Ulaz stood and left, footsteps echoing thanks to the cavernous ceiling. Keith sighed, sliding off the bed.

“Sorry about how things went out there. It’s definitely not the best first impression.”

Shiro grunted, rolling over to track Keith’s movements, only to come face-to-face with something squishy and reddish-pink in color. It was big, too, nearly the size of a pillow. Shiro blinked, thinking that maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought, because there was no way he was really staring down a squishy pink stuffed fox...right?

**_Ohhhhh?_ ** Kuron had stirred back to awareness.  **_Does_ Aisuru _have something he wants to tell us?_**

“Um...Keith?”

Keith draped himself across a nearby sofa of purple velvet, the very portrait of royal indulgence. “Yeah?”

“Is this..?”

He looked up; as soon as he realized what Shiro was looking at, his cheeks and ears went pink. 

“Oh, uh...yeah, that’s...yeah.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “There’s...two more behind you.”

So that was what Ulaz had put under his head. Shiro breathed out hard, trying to work past the pain in his head, because he had a lot of questions. First and foremost was why a nineteen-year-old boy had three squishy fox plushies in his bedroom, but he figured that wasn’t a pressing question, given the events of the night.

“Does...anyone else at the house...know you have a sister?”

“Allura does.” Keith leaned forward and grabbed a shiny golden bag from the table in front of him. “The others don’t. I...don’t like talking about it.”

He opened the bag, pulling out wads of tissue paper and chucking it onto the table. It was then that Shiro realized the low table was piled with boxes and bags of all shapes and sizes, some large enough that Shiro would need both arms to hold them, others small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. He frowned, confused.

“What...what are those?”

“Presents,” Keith answered, lifting a diamond-encrusted decanter from the bag.

“Presents?”

“Engagement presents for the happy couple - us, that is. Most of them are from Mom’s friends, or from members of the court.” He popped the top off the decanter and sniffed its contents. “Ohhh, that’s the good shit.”

“What is it?”

“Auntie Seph’s present. It’s cognac, straight from the stores of Dionysus himself.” Keith snapped his fingers, and two crystal tumblers appeared amongst the pile of presents. “He’s kind of an asshole, but Hecate bless the old, drunk bastard. You want some?”

“You’re eighteen.”

“Yep, last I checked. What of it?”

“I thought the drinking age in America was twenty-one?”

Keith snorted. “I’ve been drinking since I was fourteen. Grandfather gave up on trying to get me to adhere to mortal drinking laws while I was down here - especially because Mom didn’t care as long as I went back to Allura sober.”

Keith poured each of them a glass of cognac, then stood and padded over on bare feet, his crazy high heels forgotten somewhere. As soon as the glass touched his fingers, Shiro snatched it and downed it in one gulp. Keith chuckled.

“Mazel tov.”

Shiro wasn’t much for drinking, but even he could tell that the cognac was better than anything he’d ever tasted - or, for that matter, would ever taste again. He felt a little bad, chugging it the way he had, especially as it was supposed to be a present for both of them. But after what he had seen at the tea party, he was pretty sure he’d earned the right to chug expensive godly booze like it was water. It made his head feel a little less like it was going to explode - although that may have just been wishful thinking.

“This...is my fault,” he sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

Keith blinked. “Come again?”

“This. What happened. It...it happened because of me,” Shiro said, setting the glass down. He leaned back into the squishy fox pillows, wishing they could just swallow him up, never to be seen again. “Because I insisted we come meet your grandfather for tea. Because I wanted to deal with this stupid, conniving, selfish ass-licker who lives in my head and likes to screw with everyone’s fates because he thinks it’s fun.”

Kuron bristled.  **_I resent the ass-licker comment._ **

“Shiro,” Keith sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “This isn’t your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself for stuff you have no control over.”

“Well, Kuron and I certainly didn’t make things any better. I’m still the reason you ended up down here in time for the world’s worst family reunion. I didn’t even bring a decent gift.”

“Now that’s not true. None of this is your fault. And everyone loved your gift, by the way. Antok and Thace were about to start a fist-fight over the coconut jam, and the reason they didn’t was because Grandfather came by and snatched it out of their hands. He used his position as king to call dibs, can you believe it?”

Shiro knew Keith was trying to make him feel better - maybe even make him laugh - but even the thought of the King of the Seelie Court doing something as normal and human-like as calling dibs on something didn’t do anything to improve his mood. Keith pursed his lips, then set his untouched glass down next to Shiro’s empty one. He stood, heading for a desk of carved mahogany in the corner. Shiro’s eyes followed him.

“What are you doing?”

Keith opened a drawer, taking out what looked like a photo album and smoothing a hand over its cover. “Well...I figured, since you’re my fiance, and I even called you my husband at the table, you rate high enough on the friendship scale to unlock my tragic backstory.”

Shiro’s nose wrinkled. “You have a tragic backstory?”

“All royalty of any worth does.”

Shiro was pretty sure that having a tragic backstory had nothing to do with being royalty, but before he could argue the point, Keith took a seat cross-legged on the bed, pressing the book into Shiro’s hands. He looked back and forth between Shiro and the book in an expectant fashion, and finally, Shiro opened it.

It appeared to be more scrapbook than photo album. On the first page, there was a handful of tacked-down, pressed flowers, and a sketch of a beautiful woman with short, dark hair and eyes that were piercing even as a sketch. Shiro gently ran a finger over the dried petals of one of the flowers.

“What’s this?”

“The story of me,” Keith said. “And my story begins with a firefighter and a Seelie princess.”

“I was...wondering about that,” Shiro said. “How’d your dad even meet your mom, anyways? I can’t imagine he just...wandered into the Seelie Court and swept your mom off her feet.”

“He didn’t. Mom’s been around for a long time. Every couple of decades or so, she would get a little stir-crazy and go out, travel the world for a few years. It just so happened that, back in 1996, she chose a door that dropped her off in the middle of a redwood forest in Southern California just as a squad of wildland firefighters did a practice flyover. Imagine the shock they all received when a soaking-wet woman dressed like an ancient Grecian tragedy came storming out of the forest cursing them six ways to Sunday.”

“I can imagine it must have been a bit shocking,” Shiro said. “Especially seeing as your mom is seven feet tall and purple.”

“Oh, no, she wasn’t purple for that,” Keith said. “She has a human glamour, just like any other high-powered Fae. Dad didn’t get to see her true form until at least a year and a half into their relationship - after she was sure he wasn’t going to run away or keel over from fright as soon as he saw her true form. Let me tell you, if you think my mom and I look alike, wait until you see her in her human glamour. It’s like looking at a reflection, except the reflection has a nice rack.”

“I don’t feel comfortable thinking that about your mother,” Shiro said.

“Neither do I. Moving on.” He leaned over and flipped to the next page, a two-page spread that showcased a wedding with a human Krolia and a man who also bore a strong resemblance to Keith. The next three pages were a wedding in the Seelie Court, complete with dried rose petals tacked onto the pages. Then, on the page after that, a beautiful announcement on thick vellum paper with exquisite calligraphy. The letters on the announcement swam before Shiro’s eyes momentarily before he was able to actually focus and read the announcement.

_ Her Highness, Princess Krolia of the Seelie Court, and her husband, Prince Consort Heath Kogane, welcome to the world _

_ Prince Akira Kogane _

_ and _

_ Princess Akemi Kogane _

_ born on the 23rd of October, 2000 _

“Things started out great for me and Acxa,” Keith said, turning the page, showing Shiro a massive spread of pictures, all featuring a pair of dark-haired, dark-eyed babies, virtually indistinguishable from each other save for the fact that one had a pink bow in her hair. “Grandfather may not have approved of my father at first, but once he got past the fact that my father was human, he actually liked him a lot. And, of course, he was thrilled to have me and Acxa. We were his first grandchildren.”

Keith kept flipping, and the babies in the picture grew. Pictures of birthdays, Christmases, and other holidays passed, including a picture of Keith and Acxa, both about four years old and sitting astride some kind of horse that seemed to be made of living shadows; the picture was helpfully labeled “Akira and Akemi’s first Wild Hunt - 10/2004.” Keith didn’t offer explanation for the pictures, they spoke for themselves. Shiro was surprised to find that Keith and Acxa seemed to have been pretty close growing up, always side-by-side in the pictures. 

Finally, Keith stopped at a spread of birthday pictures, all of them featuring him and Acxa beaming, opening a pile of presents, leaning over a sheet cake with seven candles stuck in it.

“This was our seventh birthday.”

He flipped two pages ahead, to another birthday scene. This time, however, Acxa was thin and scowling, cheeks hollow and eyes circled with dark skin. Krolia stood behind them, human and as unhappy-looking as her daughter - a sharp contrast to the smiles on the faces of Keith and his dad.

“And this was our eighth.”

Shiro frowned. What could have happened in that one year that made both Acxa and Krolia look so miserable?

“Acxa’s powers manifested two weeks after our seventh birthday,” Keith explained. “And she nearly burnt down our house during her Manifestation.”

“I’m guessing that isn’t a very common thing?”

“I mean, Manifestations are never calm affairs. It’s the massive discharge of magical energy that builds in the body of half-Fae since birth, as well as the awakening of their powers. The problem comes from the fact that Manifestation doesn’t usually happen until the early teens...and my sister was seven.”

Shiro nodded, thinking back to the tea party, to Acxa’s accusations:  _ “I came here and it was all studying, working, training, day in and day out. Always told to focus. To work harder...sorry, Mommy, but your best wasn’t good enough.” _

“Things starting to fall into place?”

Shiro glanced over to Keith, who was watching him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Acxa said you stayed with your dad, and she...she came here. To train.”

“Mom didn’t know what else to do,” Keith said. “Manifesting at seven was unheard of, and Acxa wasn’t able to control her powers. She nearly burnt down the house during her Manifestation. Three days later, I took a toy from her, and next thing I know, all the water that was in the sink is forcing its way down my throat and my sister is trying to drown me on dry land - obviously, Mom caught her in time and everything worked out fine!” Keith threw up his hands in a placating gesture at the horrified expression on Shiro’s face. “But the point is that half-Fae powers tend to be fueled by their emotions in the early stages of post-Manifest, which is why manifesting as early as Acxa did is so dangerous. Despite the rampant hormone storm, teenagers tend to have a little better control over their emotions than first graders do. And that’s not to mention the physical toll that manifesting takes…”

“Physical toll?”

“Four days after she manifested, Acxa passed out in the middle of the backyard. Dad brought her inside and took her temperature, and it was 107 degrees. Had she been human, that would have caused brain damage or put her in a coma. As it was, she wouldn’t wake up. Mom knew she had to take her to the Seelie Court and get her powers under control...otherwise, things would just keep getting worse.”

“So, what was your mom training her to do? Control her emotions?”

“Kinda? It’s not quite that simple, though. Like any other kid, Acxa had to learn to control her emotions, but she also had to learn how to uncouple her emotions from her powers, so that the next time she got mad at someone, she wouldn’t accidentally attempt to kill them like she did to me.”

“So the older you get, the less your powers are tied to your emotions?”

“With training, yes. Strong emotions can still amplify a Fae’s powers, pure-blood or not, hence the um...the display during tea.” Keith fiddled sheepishly with the pages of the album. “And certain spaces, such as the Courts, or places located along ley lines, can give a boost to powers. Kinda like magical steroids.”

“That...sounds bad.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t make Mom’s work any easier.” Keith flipped forward a few pages; all the pages were full of pictures of him and his dad, with stubs of tickets from movies and amusement parks, or drawings done in marker and sloppily signed by Keith. Acxa and Krolia appeared in a series of pictures that must have been the twins’ ninth birthday; Krolia looked exhausted, frown lines pinched into the forehead of her human guise, and Acxa, now a head taller than Keith, was all sharp edges and had a feral glint to her eyes, a startling contrast to Keith’s still-soft cheeks and wide, crooked-teeth smile.

Finally, Keith stopped on a page full of pictures of a coal-black rabbit: Sitting in a cardboard box, being held by Keith, sniffing around a large, freshly-build hutch. The look on Keith’s face turned soft and fond.

“I found Fang right before my tenth birthday,” he said. “Dad and I moved to the edge of civilization, practically in the damn desert, after Acxa’s manifestation - not only to keep her safe, but to keep the neighbors safe, too. But...you don’t exactly get a lot of rabbits out in the desert outside of jackrabbits, and those are a lot different from lop-earred bunnies like Fang. I was afraid the buzzards were gonna get him, so I begged Dad to let me keep him. He was a big softy at heart, so of course, he said yes - even built Fang the hutch.”

Keith turned the page. Shiro expected to see pictures from Keith and Acxa’s tenth birthday, but instead, the page was blank. He frowned in confusion, and Keith only offered a wry smile.

“I Manifested the night before my tenth birthday. Caused the worst storm the area had seen in decades.”

Shiro gave a low whistle. He knew, of course, that Keith was powerful - had seen as much at tea - but that kind of power seemed insane.

“Acxa and I were the children of the Crown Princess. The royal bloodline is known for two things: Its purity and its potency.” Keith grinned a bit. “Obviously, the fact that my sister and I even exist is a big middle finger to bloodline purity, but even with human blood in the mix, Mom’s Fae blood packs a punch. And trust me, it shows in her powers, too - that is, when she’s not sloshed out of her mind.”

From outside of Keith’s room, there came a loud thud, followed by a drunken bellow of laughter. A second person shushed the laughter at stage-whisper volumes and Keith sighed, taking the book from Shiro and closing it with a sharp snap. 

“Speaking of…” He stood, then turned to Shiro. “Can you stand? I may need some help.”

Cautiously, Shiro sat up. His head ached like he’d taken a sledgehammer to the skull, but the world didn’t sway around him, and he didn’t black out, so he cautiously threw his legs over the side of the bed. Keith offered him a hand, and slowly, he got to his feet. He felt a little dizzy, and the headache he had wouldn’t be going away anytime soon, but he was pretty sure he should have been in much worse shape after cracking his head on a very solid wooden chair and collapsing on a stone floor.

**_You can thank me any time,_ ** Kuron said, and Shiro could practically hear the fox spirit’s smugness.

_ Thank you for what? _

**Aisuru** **_said that powers are stronger here. That includes my powers. And my powers are what saved you from the concussion and skull fracture you should have._ **

_ Oh. Well...thanks. Will you be expecting to take over in return, because that’s not happening. _

Kuron chuckled.  **_The fox ears and tails are enough. That, and you spending some time bonding with_ ** **Aisuru.**

_ Well don’t get too comfortable. We’re breaking off this marriage bond as soon as we can get an audience with Kolivan. _

Another snicker.  **_Just keep telling yourself that._ **

“Shiro?” 

He blinked; Keith stood in front of him, holding both of his hands and looking a bit concerned.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “Yeah, I...feel a lot better than I thought I would.”

Keith nodded with a little smile. “Good. Ulaz will be happy to hear that. Now let’s go make sure my mom doesn’t do something stupid.”

Shiro followed after Keith, who, as if sensing Shiro’s caution, moved slowly. The passed a full-length tri-fold mirror, the kind that might be found in a dressing room, and with a start, Shiro realized his clothes had been changed while he was unconscious. His polo shirt and khakis were gone, replaced by a pair of faded black sweatpants and an Arizona State University sweatshirt that was just wide enough for his broad shoulders. He glanced at Keith, who was looking back with a sheepish, apologetic expression.

“I, um, didn’t have the heart to tell you this when you woke up, but...you kinda puked on yourself after you blacked out. And since Thace and Ulaz were in the process of hauling you up off the floor, it kinda went all down your front.”

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” Shiro sighed. “Whose clothes are these?”

“My dad’s. We figured that the two of you were close enough build-wise that his clothes would fit you.”

Shiro frowned. “Is your...is your dad here?”

Keith didn’t answer, but turned, continuing for the door. Shiro hustled after him as best as he could, catching up as Keith opened the door to his room.

Much like his room, the hallway was carved from rock, the ceilings hung with diamond chandeliers, their candles casting a steady light that did not flicker like a normal flame. Doors of thick wood lined the hallway, all unmarked and identical. Shiro wondered how anyone could tell which room belonged to who.

Another bark of laughter echoed down the hallway. Keith and Shiro leaned out of the door; two doors down and across the hall, Krolia had careened into a polished suit of armor and was laughing helplessly about it, one arm slung around Persephone’s neck and a wine bottle dangling from the fingers of her other hand.

“Shhhhh,” Persephone hissed, giggling herself and taking a swig from a wine bottle. “You’re going to wake everyone up.”

“Oh, who cares?” Krolia hiccuped, reaching up to cup Persephone’s cheek in one purple hand. “We’ll give them a fine show.”

She leaned in to kiss Persephone, but Keith swooped in, sliding an arm under his mother’s in an attempt to help her stand upright.

“Sorry to ruin the fun, you two, but there are some things I don’t really need to see, and you kissing Aunt Seph is one of them.”

Krolia tensed, then shoved her way out of Keith’s grasp, surprisingly nimble for someone drunk enough to fall into a suit of armor. Her eyes were wide with terror.

“K-Keith? No, I...I can’t, I’m not...I don’t have permission to - ”

“It doesn’t count if I initiate the touch, Mom,” Keith said, moving in again, this time sliding under her right arm, plucking the bottle out of her left hand and studying the label. “Were you snooping around in the wine cellar again?”

“Your grandfather opened a half dozen bottles of the finest Seelie Court wine for the tea party. It seemed a shame to let them go to waste.”

“And how much is left of those six bottles?”

Both Krolia and Persephone exchanged looks. Krolia snatched the bottle out of Keith’s hands, gave it a shake - it sounded almost empty - and then both women raised the bottles to their lips, downing what was left of them. Krolia handed the empty bottle back to Keith with a self-satisfied grin.

“Six empty bottles.”

“Look, far be it from me to lecture you about drinking, but...you know this stuff isn’t going to solve your problems, right, Mom?” Keith asked.

“It helps me sleep better at night,” Krolia argued.

“I know.” Keith sighed. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room. Shiro, can you give Aunt Seph a hand?”

Shiro trotted over, offering his arm to Persephone as Keith wrapped his arm around Krolia’s waist and started walking her down the hallway. The goddess turned her attention to Shiro, and he tried not to shiver or recoil. Her eyes were the color of molten silver, and pierced right through him. She grinned.

“I like your tails, servant of Inari.”

“Um...thanks.”

“You know, foxes are Keith’s favorite animal.”

“O-oh, they are?” Shiro asked, glancing over at Keith, who was staring ahead in a determined fashion, although the tips of his ears were bright pink.

“Absolutely. Ever since he was little. And he was obsessed with that one creature, from that pocket-monster game...the fox of many tails…”

“You mean...Ninetales?” Shiro asked. Keith’s ears were tomato-red.

“Yes! Yes, Ninetales, that’s the one. He would bend my ear about how beautiful it was, and when he evolved one in his little video game, he was so proud. It makes sense that he’d fall for a boy with nine fox tails.”

“Oh, but we’re not - ”

“And you’re such a nice boy, too! Helping a pair of drunk old birds like Krolia and I go lay down to wait for the inevitable hangover. What a gem you are, Shiro.”

“Thanks…”

Mercifully, Keith made it to a set of double doors at the end of the hallway and pushed them open, leading Krolia in. Shiro followed after, and the sight before him made his breath catch in his throat. The room beyond was massive, enough so that Keith’s spacious room suddenly seemed small in comparison. The stone walls soared upwards, disappearing into a darkened ceiling. The room was filled with the sound of rushing water, and clusters of half-melted candles spontaneously lit as they walked in, enough for Shiro to make out a small library to his right - with a desk of dark wood and a bookcase of leather-bound tomes to match - and a dressing table to his left, its surface covered with combs and brushes of real gold, as well as various pots of Inari-only-knew-what.

And then, Shiro’s attention was grabbed by a very large and scary-looking dog that had been curled up on an Oriental rug in front of the dressing table, whose head was now raised and whose burning red eyes were fixed on Shiro. Drool dripped from a maw of massive, sharp teeth, and the drool actually hissed when it hit the ground, like it was acidic. The dog growled, hackles rising.

**_What the FUCK IS THAT?!_ ** Kuron shrieked, and Shiro took a step back, having no interest in being food for Krolia’s scary-ass dog.

“Honey, knock it off,” Keith said, not scared but tired, as if confronting this evil-looking beast was nothing unusual. “Don’t make me get the spray bottle again.”

_ That _ was  _ Honey? _ Shiro now understood exactly why Slav was so terrified of the damn thing.

Another hiss caught his attention. He glanced up, finding no less than a dozen eyes looming out of the rafters at him, and his stomach bottomed out. Clearly, Honey was not the only creature Krolia was keeping in her chambers.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Persephone slurred, putting a hand on Shiro’s bicep. “All of Krolia’s pets are extremely well-trained. You’re not in any danger.”

**_Yeah, I call bullshit on that._ **

“Right…” Shiro said dryly, nodding.

“Come on,” Keith sighed, leading Krolia across the space. Shiro reluctantly followed, now certain he would rather face down Keith and Acxa’s fight over tea again - fireballs, spinning table, and all - than spend one more minute in the grand duchess’s menagerie of madness, but as he passed Honey, she merely put her head back down on her paws and glared at Shiro.

Keith led them to a bridge, where Shiro discovered that the running water was not ambient noise, but an actual, honest-to-Inari stream running through Krolia’s room; they crossed it, to what was clearly meant to be more private chambers. The back of the room grew dark and hazy, as if they had passed through a veil Shiro could not see, and candles came to life on their new side. This side’s main feature was a massive four-poster bed that Shiro was pretty sure was the size of his entire bedroom at his old Tokyo apartment. A few plush chairs were gathered in a corner, overstuffed and upholstered in purple, and probably costing more than Shiro’s entire life. A massive tapestry hung next to the chairs; from the little Shiro knew about the Seelie Court, it was probably straight out of a medieval castle and also stupidly expensive or rare. Probably both.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Keith said. “You can just...steer Aunt Seph to a chair, she’ll sober up quicker than Mom.”

Shiro nodded, making his way towards one of the chairs with Persephone still leaning on him. She went easily, settling into one of the chairs without a fuss. 

“Akira...Akira, baby...I’m sorry,” Krolia slurred, and she sounded so completely miserable that it made Shiro’s heart hurt. “All this...all this s’my fault…”

“It’s not your fault, Mom,” Keith sighed, sounding a lot more weary than any nineteen-year-old would be. “It’s Honerva’s fault. You know that.”

“I never shoulda…” There was a soft thump, and her next words were muffled from her speaking into a pillow. “Everyone paid for my stupid mistakes…”

“Mom…”

Persephone was already asleep and snoring softly on the couch. Keith had dropped his voice, and Shiro was also pretty sure he wasn’t speaking English anymore, but some Faerie language. Not wanting to interrupt their moment of privacy, Shiro instead turned to examine the tapestry hanging on the wall. It seemed pretty ordinary, richly embroidered vines and leaves on a plain background. He reached out to touch it, mindful that it was probably old and he should be careful not to wreck it.

It moved under his touch.

And kept moving.

As if there was nothing underneath of it.

Nonplussed, Shiro gently hooked a finger into the edge of the tapestry and pulled it aside. Sure enough, there was no wall under it, but instead, there seemed to be a doorway. It was dark, and the air coming from it was cold, but...Shiro was curious. Probably too curious for his own good.

He glanced over his shoulder. Keith was carding his fingers through Krolia’s hair, and Krolia was still face-down in the pillow, her shoulders shaking. It felt a lot like snooping…

**_It’s not a big deal,_ ** Kuron purred.  **_Besides, it’ll give them some privacy for a moment._ **

_ If I get eaten by something, I’ll turn you into a rug. _

He tugged the tapestry aside enough to slip behind it and into the doorway. As soon as the tapestry was down, low light came to life; what he’d expected to turn into a tunnel was just, in fact, a doorway, and now, he was standing in what appeared to be some kind of forgotten sitting room, filled with more of the comfy chairs like the ones in Krolia’s bedroom, and clusters of candles. 

And, in the corner, something draped in cloth, too large to be a table. 

Shiro crept towards it. The cloth didn’t move, and the room was absolutely silent, but two decades of horror-movie knowledge told Shiro that usually, still and silent moments meant something bad was about to strike. The claws on his right arm throbbed slightly as they grew an extra inch, ready to possibly gut whatever was under the cloth. He grabbed a bit of it in his left fist, then, bracing himself for whatever was underneath, he ripped it off…

And found a statue.

Unlike statues he’d seen in museums, or on the internet, this wasn’t carved from smooth rock, but instead, something that looked like it was of a similar composition to the rocks that made up the walls and floors around him. Cave rock. In spite of that, it was easily one of the most detailed and lifelike statues he’d ever seen. It was a man, roughly about Shiro’s height and oddly familiar-looking, standing with one hand out in front of him and the other behind him. The expression on his face was a strange one - fear, and sadness, but at the same time, there was some sense of resolution to it, as if he had resigned himself to some unknown fate. 

“I see you’ve found my mom’s sitting room.”

Shiro nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Keith’s voice behind him. To his embarrassment, his tails fluffed up like those of a startled cat; when he turned around, he found that Keith was actually smiling about this. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Shiro took a deep breath, hoping he didn’t look too ridiculous (and sure he did, anyway). “What, um...how did you..?”

“Know where to find you?” Keith smirked. “This was always my favorite part of Mom’s room. Sometimes, when Acxa and I were little, we’d hide in here with Mom when Kolivan was looking for her. We’d stay in here for hours, playing games, having tea…”

“Did your mom carve this?” Shiro asked, gesturing to the statue.

Keith shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “Shiro...meet my dad.”

“Your...dad?” Shiro turned to look at the statue again. It really was lifelike enough that he expected it to start speaking, and as he looked closer at the face, he could see the resemblance to Keith - and it definitely looked like the man in the pictures back in Keith’s room. 

But. 

“Keith, this is a statue.”

“I know. But he wasn’t always.”

Shiro turned to face him. “I don’t understand.”

Keith sighed. “I’ll explain, but...not here. Come with me.”

He reached out and took Shiro’s wrist - Shiro pointedly ignored the swooping sensation in his stomach when Keith did so - and led him out of the secluded sitting room. Back in the bedroom, Persephone was still sprawled across the couch Shiro had left her on, and Krolia was curled up in her bed, the heavy bedspread pulled up so that only the top of her head was visible. They crossed over the moat, heading for the door. As they passed, Honey the hellhound lifted her head from the rug she lay on, but she only whimpered and laid her head back down on her paws. Keith sighed. 

“I know, Honey. I know.”

Keith led Shiro out of the room, letting Shiro’s wrist go to pull the heavy double doors shut behind him. But instead of taking Shiro’s wrist again, Keith pressed his forehead to the seam of the doors, still and silent.

“Keith?”

“Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s...hard, seeing my mom like that. And I want to be mad at her, but at the same time, I can’t because I know it’s not entirely her fault…”

“What happened?”

“A bunch of bullshit, that’s what.” He took a deep breath and turned around to face Shiro, looking...tired. More tired than any eighteen-year-old should have. “Again...not here.”

He started down the hallway. Shiro followed after, struggling to keep up even though Keith was shorter than him by a head. Fortunately, the halls were empty, and Keith’s snow-white hair gleamed in the low light of the torches, a beacon to guide him to...wherever they were going.

He stopped and led them through a set of double doors. To Shiro’s relief, they were back in Keith’s bedroom. But instead of sitting on the bed, Keith headed for the far wall, twitching aside a pair of large, heavy drapes. Behind the drapes were a pair of French doors, inlaid with glass windows through which moonlight streamed.

“I thought we were underground,” Shiro said, watching as Keith opened the doors. 

“Yes and no,” Keith said, gesturing for Shiro to step onto the balcony. “The Courts are liminal spaces. Not quite another world, but not quite in this world, either. And because of that, my balcony can be wherever I want it to be. You might want shoes, by the way.”

Shiro looked down; a pair of flip-flops had appeared on his feet. Keith gently shooed him out onto the balcony. Instead of the rock of the floor inside Keith’s room, the balcony was made of rickety wooden planks and a splintery waist-high railing, the small space crowded with mismatched plastic Adirondack chairs. Beyond the deck, waves lapped at a sandy beach. Looking behind him, Shiro found that the French doors they had come through was now a sliding screen door, and Keith’s skin-tight catsuit was no longer. He was now wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tee whose large, scissor-cut neckline hung off of one of Keith’s narrow shoulders.  _ Bonjour, Bitches _ was written in brilliant pink letters across the front of the tee, and gray butterflies cavorted around the words. 

“Where are we?” Shiro asked.

“Grand Isle, Louisiana.” Keith sighed. “I come here a lot.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Not a lot of people have. It’s a tiny little barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico, and its claim to fame is that a boring book was set here, and it is probably the whitest place in the United States. Maybe even the whole world.” Keith shot Shiro a wry grin. “Seriously. The population is ninety-six percent white.”

“Why here?”

“This was the first place Allura and I lived together, after she took me in. She told me we could go anywhere I wanted, and I told her I wanted to live by the ocean. I’d never seen it before.”

“Never?”

“I grew up in the middle of the Arizona desert region. The biggest body of water I saw growing up was a swimming pool.” Keith huffed a sigh. “It didn’t matter to me that people looked at me and Allura funny, because she was a black lady with a mixed-race little punk. It didn’t matter that I was the only gay kid at school, and that the kids called me names and spread rumors that my parents were addicts who sold my body for drug money. I always felt at peace here, more so than anywhere else we’ve lived.

“So what happened?” Shiro asked. “In those pictures from when you were ten, your whole family was together and at least somewhat happy. But now, your dad is a statue, your sister hates your guts, and your mom is...well…”

“You can say it. My mom’s an alcoholic.”

“But why? What happened?”

“Zarkon and Honerva happened.”

Shiro frowned, confused. Keith sighed, plopping down into one of the Adirondack chairs.

“You might want to get comfortable. This is the long part of the story.”

Shiro dragged a chair over next to Keith’s and sat, carefully arranging his tails so he wasn’t smushing any of them. For a long moment, neither of them spoke; Keith stared out into the Gulf, not meeting Shiro’s gaze. But finally, after a long few minutes, he spoke.

“The Unseelie Court wasn’t always bad. And the Seelie Court wasn’t always good. They just kind of...were. The Unseelie Court was only called Unseelie because they were the opposite of the Seelie Court. Day versus night, summer versus winter, and so on and so forth. When a half-fae child Manifested, there would be a ceremony held to honor their Choosing.”

“Choosing?”

“Where they decided if they wanted to stay human, or be Fae. You don’t ever have to officially Choose, and there are halflings who don’t - especially those who don’t know their Fae parent.”

“Didn’t...didn’t Acxa say that your grandfather could force you to Choose?” Shiro asked - but thought better of it at the dark look that clouded Keith’s face.

“And unfortunately, she’s right. Grandfather can force the Choosing on any halfling, really, but he prefers not to. For me, however, he has the right to force it on my twenty-first birthday, if I haven’t chosen by then.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a member of the royal bloodline and the heir to the throne.” Keith huffed a breath.  “Anyways, for halflings who are in touch with their Fae family, the Choosing is important Before the ceremony, representatives from both courts come to the child to present their cases, because if the child Chooses to become Fae, they must also choose a Court. And after I had Manifested, it was decided that it was time for Acxa and I to considering the Choosing.”

“Let me guess, they sent Zarkon as the representative from the Unseelie Court?”

Keith snorted. “Oh no. Zarkon isn’t one for politicking. Likes getting his knuckles bruised too much, all about brute strength. No, Honerva came as representative instead.

“Is that...better?”

“Oh no. It’s worse.”

Keith paused, leaning back in the chair. “Mom was deemed to be a suitable representative for the Seelie Court, so Honerva made her way out into the desert to see us. It’s considered customary to offer the court envoys a gift, as thanks for their service. Mom and Dad already had a perfectly good gift for Honerva, more than enough for even an empress, but...she didn’t want it. Money, jewels, that stuff means nothing to her. She wanted something more personal. Something she could use as collateral.”

A sensation of dread settled into the pit of Shiro’s stomach as he thought back to that little black rabbit he’d seen pictures of in Keith’s scrapbook.

“Your rabbit.”

“Acxa came in holding Fang by his scruff. I screamed, but Mom just hushed me. Honerva said no harm would come to Fang, so long as none came to her...I knew she was lying, but I couldn’t say anything. She’s empress of the Unseelie Court. Even I can’t just accuse her of lying.”

“We don’t...have to continue, if you don’t want,” Shiro said. Keith’s eyes had a far away sort of look to them, voice dropping in volume. Shiro didn’t want to force him to relive his trauma.

“No, it’s fine. I...I want you to know,” Keith said. “Things...started well. Honerva showed off her powers. Showed Acxa how to conjure lightning, me, how to conjure fire. It was the first time I had seen Acxa happy since we were seven.”

“But…”

“But then, Honerva said the words that kicked off this entire decade-long shitstorm: _You’ll never be more powerful than you’ll be in the Unseelie Court._ ”

Shiro wrinkled his nose, thinking over the words, trying to find what was offensive in them. “I don’t get it.”

“As a Seelie Princess, Mom took exception to that statement.”

“Oh…”

“The next thing I know, Mom’s started a shouting match with Honerva in the living room, going on about  _ how dare you suggest to my children that their blood makes them less powerful  _ or...something. I don’t really remember. I just remember that she was trying really, really hard to make it sound like she was angry on our behalf, but really, she was mad because Honerva had insulted her. But again, that’s where that whole ‘you can’t just accuse the Unseelie empress of whatever’ because Fae are really big on honor and titles and whatnot.”

“So how did that end up with your dad being turned into a statue?” Shiro asked. “And didn’t you say your mom was a duchess, not a princess?”

“I’m getting to that,” Keith said. “Needless to say, things got heated between Mom and Honerva. Dad was trying to diffuse things as best as he could, but Honerva doesn’t give a shit about humans and Mom was past the point of listening. Next thing we know, shit’s floating around the room, and Mom and Honerva are screaming at each other while they’re floating around the room - a little trick you might recognize, by the way. Acxa took a leaf out of her mentor’s book, it seems. And then…”

He broke off, scrubbing a hand over his face. In the low light, it looked like he was crying. Shiro reached over and placed a hand on Keith’s upper back. 

“We can stop.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Keith took a deep breath. “Honerva told my mom ‘if you’re so powerful, protect them from this.’ And then...there was this bright flash of light, and so much noise and wind, like someone had set off a bomb in the living room. Dad jumped in front of Acxa and I...Acxa was yelling something, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying, and everyone was yelling all at once…”

He trailed off, staring bleakly off the deck, watching the tide come in. The night air smelled like salt water and gardenias. There was a noise behind them, and when Shiro turned around, he saw Allura through the screen door, white hair twisted into a knot at the back of her head. A moment later, however, she rippled, like a reflection on water; her skin purpled, her hair darkened, and she became Krolia, clear-eyed and humming a soft tune. Then Allura again, then Krolia, and back again in rapid succession. The waves, which had been lapping calmly at the beach, started coming in harder, pounding at the sandy shore, and thunder rumbled in the distance, as if the atmosphere itself was tuning in to Keith’s emotional cues.

“Let’s stop,” Shiro said, turning back to Keith. “I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have.”

“I can do this,” Keith ground out through gritted teeth.

“I really don’t mind, I’ve...got the basic idea…”

“No. No, I can do this, it’s just…” Keith let out a long, slow breath. The waves beyond the deck calmed slightly. “Hang on. It’s...easier if I show you.”

Before Shiro could ask what he meant, Keith waved a hand in front of both of them. An image appeared in front of them, moving in slow motion.

_ A white-haired woman with gleaming yellow eyes, hand flung out towards a ten-year-old version of Keith. A man, his father, jumping in front of him, taking the hit of what looked like a bolt of purple lightning. Turning to stone where he was hit. Krolia flinging out her own hand, the air in front of young Keith and Acxa rippling, as if an invisible curtain had been pulled over them. The white-haired woman howled her anger. _

_ “Where are your brats, Krolia? Where are they?” _

_ “I’ll never let you have them, Honerva,” Krolia growled. “If you want them, you’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.” _

_ “I can work with that,” Honerva spat. _

_ Keith, meanwhile, was shaking his father, trying to get him to move, to do something, tears streaming down his little face. _

_ “Dad? Dad, come on, wake up! Dad!” _

_ “Stop your sniveling!” Acxa said, voice harsher than a ten-year-old’s had any right to be. _

_ “Something’s wrong with Dad!” Keith said. “He’s not moving! I think he’s hurt!” _

_ “He’s not hurt, you idiot, he’s been turned to stone!” _

_ “We have to turn him back!” _

_ “We can’t! Don’t you see?” Acxa pointed a finger to Krolia and Honerva, who were still battling it out, Krolia dodging blasts of purple light from Honerva that seemed to leave devastation in their wake. “This is all Mom’s fault!” _

_ “No it’s not!” _

_ “Well, then why is Dad made of stone? Why is Empress Honerva destroying our house?” Acxa grabbed Keith by the front of his shirt. “Mom is the reason this is happening. She’s mad that she can’t match Empress Honerva’s powers. She’s weak!” _

_ “No, she’s not!” _

_ Acxa stared at him in disgust, then half-dropped, half-threw him to the floor.  _

_ “And you’re weak too.” _

_ Acxa turned on her heel, walking to the space where the air rippled, a shield of Krolia’s making. She placed her hands to it, then dug her nails in, trying to tear into the shield, to pull it apart. Krolia rounded on her, eyes wide at the sight. _

_ “Akemi, no! Akemi!” _

_ Krolia had turned her back on Honerva. Honerva responded to it with a direct hit to the back, a bolt of that devastating purple light blasting Krolia across the room. Her shield shattered, and Acxa moved towards Honerva, who was now staring both her and Keith down, static energy crackling in her palms. She stopped, looking over her shoulder at Keith. _

_ “You might be okay with being weak,” she said. “But I’m not. I’ve made my Choice.” _

_ “Akemi, please…” Krolia croaked from where she had fallen. _

_ “I, Akemi Song Kogane, do Choose to live the remainder of my days as Fae.” _

_ Thunder clapped, and lightning shattered the roof of the house, the room disappearing in white light for a split second. Then, everything darkened again, the lights of the room having been shattered in Krolia and Honerva’s fight. Soft purple light flared in Honerva’s palms, and Shiro could see Acxa on the floor, trembling slightly, breathing heavily. Honerva’s expression was no longer filled with fury, but instead, something that looked like triumph and awe. _

_ “Rise, child.” _

_ Slowly, Acxa got to her feet. Before the lightning hit her, she had been the girl in the pictures in Keith’s scrapbook, dark-haired and human, if a little feral looking. But now, she was a miniature version of the Acxa that Shiro had met at the tea party, her skin blue, hair dark-purple in color, a small pair of horns jutting up out of her hair. She turned to Keith and Krolia and grinned with a mouth full of sharp, white teeth. _

_ “Akemi...no…” Krolia breathed. _

_ Acxa blinked at her mom. Once. Twice. Then, she disappeared. _

_ Only to reappear a moment later. This time, however, she held a squirming Fang by his scruff. The room was silent, save for the small, scared noises that Fang was making. _

_ A kitchen knife appeared in Acxa’s hand. _

_ “Akemi, no!” Krolia said. _

_ “Fang!” Keith screamed. “Kemi, no! Let him go! Don’t hurt him!” _

_ “I, Akemi Song Kogane, do swear my allegiance to the Unseelie Court, to Emperor Zarkon and Empress Honerva,” Acxa said. “I will be a loyal member of the Unseelie Court until the end of my days.” _

_ “Prove your loyalty, child,” Honerva said. “Do it.” _

Shiro had to look away, stomach churning. But he could hear what was happening - Fang’s terrified noises that stopped abruptly, ten-year-old Keith’s screams, a massive clap of thunder and then the sounds of a building tumbling down. After a moment, he dared to look again, only to find that the memory was gone, and Keith was leaning forward in the chair, forearms braced on his legs, head bowed so that his hair was hiding his face.

**_How could she?_ ** thundered Kuron.

_ What? _

**_How could she? How could she betray her family?_ ** Kuron was perhaps more furious that Shiro had ever experienced.  **_They did everything for her! They tried to help her! And this is what she does to thank them? She should be glad they don’t gut her where she stands, the traitorous bitch!_ **

“The last thing I remember was Honerva bringing the house down around me, Mom, and Dad, then taking my sister and disappearing.” 

Keith’s words broke off Kuron’s rant. He sat back up and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Then, I was waking up in a hospital bed with some gray-haired lady I’d never seen before keeping watch over me. They told me they’d found me unconscious in a collapsed building at the edge of the desert. I kept asking them where Mom and Dad were, but they wouldn’t tell me. As soon as I was well enough to leave the hospital, however, they put me into a group home and told me they were going to arrange for a foster family to take me in.”

“Wait, what about your mom?” Shiro asked. “Where was she?”

“She had been picked up by knights of the Unseelie Court, on Honerva’s orders. Dad’s statue went with her. The only reason I didn’t go, too, was because she used her magic to hide me.”

“What happened to her? And what about you?”

“Eh, you know,” Keith said with a shrug. “I got sent to some really uptight Christian family in northern Arizona. I stayed with them for almost three years, too, even though I raised hell like you wouldn’t believe. Most families would have turned me back over to the state, but not this couple, because I was their personal rehabilitation project. Their ‘get out of Hell free’ card, I suppose. But apparently, taking in a foster kid and not kicking him out as soon as he starts causing trouble means you can beat the ever-loving shit out of him when you find out he’s gay and no one will bat an eye about it.”

Shiro gaped at Keith. He couldn’t imagine his grandfather laying a hand on him, much less because of his sexual orientation, but Keith was discussing having been abused as calmly as someone else might talk about what they ate for lunch.

“Allura found me when I was about thirteen,” he continued. “I’d finally had enough of that crazy-ass family and I ran away. I was trying to find my way back home - our home, the one me and Dad lived in, because I refused to believe it was gone, and I thought maybe, just maybe, my parents were still there. Were still looking for me. Maybe they couldn’t find me because I’d gone into the system as Keith, instead of Akira.”

“Why Keith? Is that like, your middle name or something?”

“Oh, no. It’s - this is going to sound really stupid…” He sighed. “Mom taught me, growing up, that names have power. To give someone your true name is to offer them power over you, and I wasn’t about to let the foster care system have power over me. So when they asked me for my name, I just...ugh, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“Telling me what?”

“I took Mom and Dad’s names and put them together,” he said. “Heath and Krolia. Keith. It just happened to work out that it was a real human name, and the foster system seemed satisfied with it. And it just kind of stuck. Honestly, I respond to Keith more than I do my real name.”

“So Allura picked you up when you were thirteen...then what?”

“She forged some of the paperwork to get herself legally registered as a foster parent, had me transferred into her care, and cast a...rather nasty hex on my previous foster family. A little dicey, yeah, but you know, she was the first person in three years to actually give a damn about me, so I was willing to overlook the forgery and the hexing.”

“What about your family? Your house?”

“The house was gone. All that was left was the foundation. Mom, meanwhile, had been stripped of her title of princess and heir to the Seelie Court throne.”

“For...what?”

“Honerva claimed that Mom attacked her. That the whole fight started because of Mom.”

“But...didn’t she start the fight?”

Keith was quiet.

“Keith?”

“I...don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know who threw the first bolt of lightning or energy. I don’t remember, and Dad can’t tell. Acxa took Honerva’s side when questioned, and even if I had been there, it would have been almost impossible to prove that Honerva was the one who threw the first punch, so to speak.”

“What about your dad? Do they think your mom would have just...turned your dad into a statue?”

“Honerva claimed he got caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage, she called it. And, well...she’s Empress of the Unseelie Court. Who’s going to argue against her?”

“So they stripped your mom of her rank?”

“And basically put her under house arrest. She hasn’t left the Seelie Court in almost nine years. Not even for the Wild Hunt.”

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is your mom so...hesitant to touch you? And when you were taking her back to her room, she was upset about touching you…”

“Oh. That.” Keith sighed. “That was...part of the punishment. They call it the Judgment of Midas. You...know the story of King Midas, right? Turns everything he touches to gold?”

“I grew up in Japan, not under a rock.”

“Well, kind of the same principal. She can see me when I’m not in the Seelie Court; she has an enchanted scrying mirror. But she can’t speak to me. And she can’t touch me, unless Grandfather specifically gives her permission.”

“And if she breaks bounds of the punishment...?”

“Then she’s sent to the Unseelie Court as a prisoner.”

“For how long?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know. But given their reputation, and given Honerva’s animosity towards her, she’s terrified of being sent to the Unseelie Court.”

“But in her bedroom, you touched her without Kolivan being there. You said…”

“Fae can’t lie,” Keith said, “but they’re good at exploiting loopholes, and I found one. If I initiate the touch, then we haven’t broken the bounds of the punishment. I was fifteen when I figured that out.”

Shiro nodded, unsure of what to say. Keith sighed.

“So...there you have it. The whole sob story. Mom’s an alcoholic who can’t touch me or she’ll get sent to Faerie prison, my sister is a blood traitor, and my father’s been a statue for nine years. Doesn’t get any better than this, does it?”

Shiro reach over and put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Keith. You don’t deserve any of this.”

“And you don’t deserve to get dragged into this crazy shit,” Keith said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to break off the marriage bond. I would, too.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Shiro assured him. “I just...I don’t want you to be stuck with me for the rest of our lives for a decision you didn’t even get to make.”

“I get that.” Keith paused, licking his lips. “Can I...ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Can we...still be friends after this? For as long as we can be, at least?”

“Of course.” Shiro frowned. “What do you mean  _ for as long as we can be? _ ”

Keith stood abruptly, not looking at Shiro. “It’s getting late. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

Shiro wasn’t really tired so much as he was confused about Keith’s sudden change in demeanor, but he still stood anyways. Keith had said that the courts were liminal spaces; he wasn’t sure if the physical space they were in would continue to exist without Keith in it, and he didn’t want to risk being stuck in a vast nothingness.

“Yeah, I guess I’m pretty tired too.”

He followed Keith inside, getting one last glimpse of the vastness of the Gulf and the starry sky overhead before Keith closed the thick drapes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://mllecomtessedelafere.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/celticaurora) for more shenanigans!


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